The effects of gravity
by rozzy07
Summary: The splintering of a father & son relationship unique to the Winchester way of doing things. 16 year old Sam and a whole world of angst to follow...!
1. Chapter 1

_**AU ( I like to think) of a too wise 16 year old Sam & his brother Dean before Stanford. My first attempt at more than drabble so please understand if it seem a little rough.**_

_**Also supreme big thanks to Faye for giving me the push to do something more and her great words of advice and ability to instil confidence to do better. And also Carocali for her kind words and encouragement. Now lets just hope they don't want to shoot the beejeezers out of me if they read this posting……! Roz. **_

Usual disclaimers apply to all things relating to Supernatural & Kripke et al.

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**The effects of gravity**

**Part 1.**

_Falling over the edge had not been his idea. Oh yeah, not his idea at all. But fate had that weird way of screwing things up for you at the most inopportune time. And fate in conjunction with having the name Winchester might just prove a fatal combination one day – and maybe this was that day. _

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As the world trembled under foot he had struggled desperately to keep his balance, and despite the odds, managed to keep his too lean body upright. Allowing himself a small smug smirk at this achievement he noted with an even bigger grin that his smart mouth 'I know what I'm doing' kick ass brother had been knocked on to his butt on the other side of the large ballroom.

Whistling out loud he inspected the huge crater that had appeared over half of what was left of the daintily tiled ballroom floor. 'Long way down' he thought as he viewed the darkness below. Throwing over a warning call to his brother he gingerly circumnavigated the hole to the other side of the ballroom where Dean now stood.

Showered in grime and dust that had been shaken loose from the ceiling above Dean was sneezing uncontrollably, his eyes streamed sending white lines down his dust covered cheeks.

Trying unsuccessfully to hide his amusement Sam allowed his brother a few moments to collect himself eyeing him carefully for signs of any injury, but the only thing that had been damaged was his older siblings pride. "Come on Dean we need to get the hell out of here, the frigging house looks ready to fall down and turn us into pancake mix any moment."

Dean merely shook his head unwilling to listen to the concern in his brother's voice. "Not happening till we're sure we got that bitch dead to centre. I wanna make certain that her scrawny little ass has well truly kicked all the way back to hell."

But for Sam this was the last thing he needed to hear. His stomach was doing flip-flops at the bad vibes coming from the crumbling mansion and just couldn't understand Dean's need, or stupidity, in wanting to stay one second longer than he had to do in this potential death trap.

"Look it's over dude. She's gone, and if there's another quake you and this whole freaky building could be flattened." Giving him a withering look he added. "Don't make me pick you up and carry you over my shoulder _little brother_…"

Spluttering at the taunt Dean was about to argue further before he saw the glint of amusement in Sam's eyes, his mouth twisted in a smirk as he looked down on him. Pulling himself up taller Dean tried to match him eye to eye. "Oh you wish bitch".

Then the absurdity of it all hit him. Sam was right, although he rather drink arsenic than tell him to his face.

Why the hell was he risking his neck standing in the ruins of some decrepit building with walls, very heavy and very deadly, readying to cave in all around him? Admitting to himself that the damned poltergeist had been nixed he knew it was time to get out of Dodge.

Still ghostly apparition, exorcised or not, dignity had to be maintained, he told himself sternly and he quickly groped around his feet to find his backpack and strutted back to the main hall way and hopefully to the safety of the outside world.

Knowing that his brother's eyes were still on him he snarled. "Stopping looking at my mighty fine ass bitch and hot-leg it out of here too."

Sam gave a snort of disgust and started to follow, whilst Dean tried desperately to stifle the chuckle that threatened to escape, knowing that Sam was not amused, but only managed to kick-start another fit of sneezing, forcing him to stop as his eyes watered anew and his breath caught hard in his throat.

Sam had paused irritably at his side waiting for him to regain some measure of control before his impatience took over. Grabbing his arm he proceeded to drag the older man after him muttering harsh curses under his breath. The words 'idiot', 'stupid' and 'jackass' seemed to make up the main body of his mutterings.

All Dean could think of as he heard his brother ranting was when did get to be so whiney and sarcastic, and where the hell did his sweet-natured adoring younger brother disappear to?

Puberty and a 16 year old Sam Winchester was proving to be one hell of a difficult ride. And if today's argument with dad was anything to go by it was only going to get even rougher.

Finding his voice he shook himself out his brother's grip. "You know Sammy, if they were giving out Gold medals at the Olympics for whinging you be a cert."

"Ha ha very funny. But you know I'm right. We shouldn't have done this stupid hunt in the first place. But the all mighty John Winchester just knew better of course!"

Dean snapped back, already weary of the way this conversation was going. "Hey smart mouth - dad does his best. Give him a break. Who knew that Miss Charlotte was going to be such a bitch to get rid off?"

"Yeah, well that's the problem isn't it Dean. If dad just for once listened to me then we might have found this out about Miss Charlotte and her quirky little powers before we got ourselves thrown around like rag dolls!"

Sam rubbed his left shoulder in memory of how he had been thrown against the wall at what had seemed death defying speed only a few minutes ago and he was surprised there wasn't more damage other than a few bruises to bear witness to the ferocity of the attack.

In truth 'Miss Charlotte' had been none too pleased when he started to recite the ritual of exorcism and Dean should be down on his knees thanking him that was able to finish the damned exorcism still with book in hand, despite being slam-dunked to the greying musty walls of the ballroom, or they would have both ended up bloodied splatters on the wall or worse.

But the words 'thank you' were an alien concept to the macho world of the Winchester men, so all he had got was a knowing look and in audible grunt from Dean with the final dispatching of Miss Charlotte's spirit. This was then superseded by what the boys guessed to be the ubiquitous southern Californian earthquake, Richter scale of lets 'scare the shit out of those boys.' as it did it's usual twist and turn before managing knock Dean onto his behind.

Dean knew that he kept tempting fate. Kept laughing at its attempts to knock him sideways if not down, whilst still managing to bounce upwards like some freaky helium filled balloon to defy fates pulls. So with a knowing sigh of frustration Dean took a moment to study his brother. Sam had shot up a good three inches in as many months and now was taller than him by an inch. Which by the laws surrounding all things to do with Big Brothers was just plain wrong.

The growth spurt had left Sam too lean and gangly, his body still trying to adjust to his added height, so that he appeared all arms and legs. Now his once round face was more angular, and the shift from child to man was clearly evident. And with these changes had come the questioning attitude and endless confrontations with their father.

Dean knew that his dad could sometimes be unfair on his younger brother, always expecting perfection and then demanding an extra 10 percent on top of that from him. The easy relationship he had shared with is Dad was incomplete contrast the open warfare he shared with Sam.

Somewhere along the way Sam's best had been deemed not good enough, and the stupid thing was that Sam in his own unique ways was as talented as he was but dad just couldn't see that in him yet. Now they had the situation where a frustrated Sam was voicing out his rebellion daily, and the ensuing bust ups with his dad were just going from bad to worse, with neither one prepared to give ground.

What frightened Dean the most though was the thought that one day he might not be around to intervene, to stop the fights escalating from the just the verbal sparring matches to the physical.

Anyone who knew John Winchester understood that he was not a man known for his tolerance and easy temper and with this new bolder Sam, who just wouldn't back down, especially when he thought he was right, fireworks seemed to follow. Which now seemed to be a permanent nightly display of overbearing parental testosterone versus hormonal teenage angst.

One of these days he knew it was going to get really ugly, and he just prayed that all three of them would be left standing after the fallout.

Breaking out of his reverie Dean reached over to swat his brother affectionately on the back nodding his head over towards the open doorway twenty yards down the long wide corridor. "Come on Sammy lets get the hell out of here. There's a cold beer and a hot girl calling my name down at Freddy's."

For the briefest of moments he was rewarded with a wide easy smile from Sam, something that he had rarely seen these last few months. It was a smile that always seemed to make the wrongs of the moment disperse behind its brightness, and made the job of being an older brother just that more enjoyable. And God how he had missed seeing that megawatt smile.

Sam though was merely grinning at the memory of Dean's latest conquest. "Dude, if it's that girl you were busy with last night then you need glasses. Man she was ugly..!" He saw his brothers' eyes widen in surprise and then narrow just as quickly as the insult was absorbed.

Dean snapped back, puffing out his chest in macho pride. "Yeah well, at least I had some action last night little man - unlike some."

Sam merely gave him a knowing smile, remembering exactly what he had got up to in the back of his brother's car whilst Dean hung out at Freddy's.

"What?" asked Dean suddenly suspicious his mind somersaulting forwards to one conclusion.. "You've got a girl? No way man….who'd want to go out with a freaky geek like you?."

"Wouldn't you like to know. But this isn't the time or place to discuss my love life old man, is it? We have to get out of here." He had the grace to blush a little under his brother's scathing gaze, but was determined not to tell him anything else.

Going in for jugular Dean's killer instincts kicked in sure and fast. "So little Sammy's been lucky enough to get a girl. How's her white stick eh? So tell me who needs glasses here…?"

Dean enjoyed the teasing, the lightness of the moment that had been sorely missing between the two of them recently. But this moment was at a cost, as their touchy feeling moment, if you could call it that, even if was but a few seconds, was a few seconds they could not afford.

It was in the midst of their little tête-à-tête all hell determined to break loose and suddenly the ground once again rippled violently underfoot followed by the ungodly piercing scream of stone splitting renting the air.

In an instance dust, thick cloying and heavy choked the atmosphere around them and Dean once again struggled for breath blindly holding onto Sam as the tremor threw them backwards.

"Sweet Mary & Joseph." Dean cursed silently under his breath, "Please just let me get Sammy out of here and I promise to be good boy for a month!"

As abruptly as it had started it the aftershock finished. Carefully picking himself up Sam thanked his lucky stars that it had only been a mild aftershock and that the building had somehow remained standing. Giving Dean 'I told you so look' he nodded his head over to the doorway daring him to argue further. "Now can we get the hell out of here?"

Coughing out what might have been an apology on anyone else tongue Dean managed to say with more than a hint of comic hysteria in his voice. "Lead on oh wise one." He tried to stifle a giggle at the dark look his brother threw his way and only succeeded in sneezing violently again. "God dammit this dust is really getting up my nose."

As are you, added Sam silently to himself, his dark green eyes burrowing into the back of his brother's skull. Not taking the risk of his reckless, Teflon coated, older brother suddenly deciding to stay and fry any other ghostly presence that might inhabit the Killhallon Mansion he beckoned for Dean to go ahead of him.

Try and bolt back, he warned silently with a glare, and I'll kick your behind all the way back to the car.

Dean had the grace to colour slightly at seeing that determined glare on his brother's face and started towards the safety of the entrance, picking his way forward cautiously towards the exit.

Sam looked more than a little pissed off to say the least. And it would have been funny if not for the fact that he had dragged him into this mess despite his brother's warnings that things seemed a little off, a little hinkey. God he hated it when his brother's all too sensitive girly senses proved him wrong.

An anxious breathless call from their father in the large main doorway, too far away to make him out clearly in the lifting blanket of dust, his shadowy form asked if they were okay to be answered dryly by Dean. "Just peachy dad – stay put we're on our way out".

Wheezing and coughing his way forward Dean tried to explain his decision to stay: "You know it's not everyday we get the chance to smoke an Uber-Casper's behind the like that. The way she went up in a huge cloud of neoplasm and went 'Pffttt' followed by that that whole shakey shakey lets bring down the house thing was awesome. Wouldn't you love to do it again?"

Appalled at the notion of having to face another 'Miss Charlotte' anytime in the near future Sam's faced grimaced in disgust. "Uh? Does your brain ever get to think normal Dude? Do that again? Not a frigging cat in hells chance, that's what I'm thinking. This place seems to be earthquake central and the sooner we get the hell out of here the better."

Perhaps he yelled too loudly, or perhaps it was just the last death rattle of a seriously pissed off ghost but something shuddered through him, like a shot of electricity, and he fell backwards away from his brother. The groan of stone underneath made him freeze and he looked over to his brother as if demanding some help here. Now. Please.

"Oh shit." was all that Sam managed to spit out as Dean lunged forward in a desperate notion to grab him as a fresh tremor nudged him over towards the lip of the huge hole in the floor that had suddenly appeared. The look on his brother' face frightened him His green eyes were wide in alarm, knowing that his outstretched hand would not reach him in time.

"Oh", he thought. "Crap – this is so not good,"

He tried to spin his body around, brace his long legs on the lip of the edge but the momentum and weight of his own body betrayed him as he heard the hollowed out scream from his brother, "Sammy" before gravity finally won the battle.

He felt the cold rush of air around him as he fell and just he knew that this was going to be one hell of a screw up.

Oh yep he would most definitely kick his brother's butt the next time he tried to hunt another Uber-Casper so unprepared he thought to himself as the ground rushed up to meet him.

Well he'd kick his butt if he lived.

Thud.

God he hated that sound. And yes that _had _hurt.

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To be continued……..

_So here you have it first chapter of more to come… All a bit raw so please forgive, no forget, any major development / character / major bunnies plot holes that may follow. You have to know that I can be more than a little dense at times and obviously have not taken to this writing & posting malarkey like a duck to water. Have patience. Please. Roz._


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm still blushing at the positive feedback on chapter 1 – your kind reviews really made me more determined to ignore the big yellow streak of chicken running up my back and made me more determined than ever to get chapter 2 done and over with – so here goes! Please forgive any hurried mistakes etc_! Roz.

_(P.S. this posting a 2nd chapter thingy is a tricky little bugger. All my original formatting seems to have disappeared and thus the whole thing just run into itself... Reposted a 2nd time so hopefully it will be less confusing to read now!)_

Usual disclaimers apply.

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**Chapter 2: Gravity 1 – Sam Winchester 0 **

Dean watched Sam teeter backwards and all he could do was cry out his brother's name in alarm knowing that he would never reach him in time.

As if unfurling in slow motion he watched his brother struggle to advert the inevitable, his youthful frame suddenly all arms and freaky long legs, trying to push his body weight forward, back from the edge to solid ground.

But the momentum was against him, his centre of gravity most definitely off, and together with his heavy backpack he was pulled backwards to disappear with a seriously bewildered expression on his face.

Dean's heart stopped mid beat as he saw the look in his Sam's eyes, reflecting perhaps his confusion as to why he wasn't by his side to stop him falling. That was his job, wasn't it? Big older brother were not supposed to watch their little brothers get hurt, they were not expected to let them fall.

Then time suddenly speeded up again and in what seemed just a fraction of a second, with his brother's name a sharp cry on his lips, he took two strides forward to reach the lip of the fissure that had swallowed Sam whole. Anxiously he peered down, but it was too dark to see any thing other than blackness.

Cursing he struggled to get his torch out of his backpack, still calling all the while for some sort of response from his brother below. The silence below was frightening him. His baby brother, normally a whirlwind of a sound and activity, was too quiet.

The beam from the torch scored its way through the darkness and with a disbelieving groan Dean was able to pick out the unmoving bent shape of his brother, lying flat on his back, unnaturally still. His backpack had come off in the fall to lay by his left side with one hand still clutching the straps.

"Damn it Sammy don't do this to me," Dean muttered under his breath. "Tell me you're ok"

For a moment he thought of jumping down, but then resisted the urge not wanting to make a bad situation worse by leaping into the unknown. He had to find a safe way of getting his brother to safety and as the torch scanned the surrounding area he could see no other way out, the light reaching only so far before being swallowed by the blackness.

Fighting down his panic he found his voice and called out loudly for his father. " Dad, get in here quickly, there's been an accident. Hurry, Sam's hurt."

For the briefest of moments John Winchester froze on the edge of the steps leading to the frontage of the house, his heart suddenly rapidly beating so loudly in his chest that the of rush of blood filled his head and his ears buzzed with a hiss of white noise.

His mouth was suddenly too dry and palms sweaty as he took onboard Dean's words. Sammy hurt? How? It was only a moment ago that Dean was telling him they were on their way out.

Just how on earth had Sam gotten himself into trouble this time round? Jesus, he thought bitterly, that boy was determined to keep adding to his grey hair, whether it by confrontation or by being the biggest hurt magnet around for all things unnatural.

Putting his emotions to one side he ran back into the building, ignoring the deep cracks lining the walls and gaps in the plaster exposing brickwork, wadding and buckled wooden slats. Huge chunks of fallen plaster crunched heavily under his weight throwing up grey clouds of dust as he sped towards the hunched up figure of his oldest son.

"Dean what the hell happened this time? Where's Sam?"

"He fell…" His voice choked and he pointed down with the torch to illuminate his still unmoving brother. "Sammy fell."

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The dribble of loosened debris from the floor overhead kept pinging on his face and chest and if he had the notion or ability to move he would have brushed it away. Fluffy thoughts of kissing Penny in the back the impala last night kept him blissfully anchored in a nice comfortable zone. He didn't want to deal with the nuisance of those damned annoying voices calling his name over and over again.

No, they could just damn well wait he decided, as where he was right now was just about nigh perfect. Penny soft and very accommodating would do nicely thank you very much.

Unfortunately even with Penny still firmly in his thoughts the voices kept calling, seemingly to get louder and louder, till they filled his head with a roar of noise and he knew he could ignore them no longer.

With a small groan he wearily put Penny aside for a moment, letting go of the memory of her lips still soft on his, and he cranked open his heavy eyes open and as they slowly focused he realised he was in world cloaked in shades of greys and black, with only a fuzzy halo of light from above to offer any relief to the darkness.

And wouldn't you just know it the light from above was crowded with the forms of two blurry shapes that he guessed must be the cause for all the noise. Damn, what did I guy have to do to have some alone time with his girl, he asked himself tersely.

He would have voiced his annoyance but his tongue felt thick in his mouth and the ability to speak just seemed so foreign that he didn't even try to respond to their caterwauling. For the moment all he could do was manage to stay awake as the mother of all headaches deemed to take possession of his consciousness.

It was a headache that seemed intent in splitting his head open from the inside out, readying it seemed to try and explode violently outwards like some baby alien, as hot lancing pains tap-danced viciously in his skull.

Still the calling persisted and beyond the anvil pounding inside his head he recognised the worried tone to his brother's voice and had to respond. "Dean" he whispered finally finding his voice, and as his eyes focused on the light above his brother's distant face coming clearer into view as his vision settled. "What happened…?"

His question was met by a wide smile of relief from his older brother, his green eyes suddenly too bright. "You fell you idiot. That's what happened."

Shakily Sam snaked a hand up to his head and traced the outline of a deep and very tender cut at the hairline of his brow with his fingertips. The fingers came away coated in blood and absently he wiped them down the side of jeans, disliking the slickness of its touch.

"Great" he moaned to himself, now he would need stitches on top of having to deal with a probable concussion and he shook his head in resignation.

The movement triggered a tidal wave of pain in his head and he was forced to swallow down the bitter taste of bile that had risen up in his throat, desperately fighting back the need to vomit up all over himself.

Yep, he decided, as his head played loud crashing cymbals of hate inside, he most definitely had a concussion, all too familiar with its effects from past head injures. He just determined this time he was not going to throw up with it, as Dean would have a field day with that one. Vomit and Dean were never a good mix.

Fighting back the nausea he decided that this was not the best way to spend a Saturday afternoon. Then it hurt even deeper as he realised that his date with Penny tonight was not going to happen now. Concussion and necking in the back of her dad's car just did not mix.

He groaned at the loss of meeting up with her again. They had managed to snatch a few dates together in the last few weeks, but with her dad being the local Chief of Police and with his dad being a bad ass Demon Hunter, sneaking anytime together was proving very difficult.

Ironically his own training had come into play and he had pulled together, with a degree of military precision whose irony was not lost on Sam, some strategic dates with her. Slipping, in the process, under the radar of his all knowing brother, dad and Warbutons Chief of Police. And god that had been so much fun!

Damn it, he really had wanted to see Penny tonight. She had promised so much. Life, he decided, was just too fucked up to play fair anymore.

Wearily he knew that the day was just going from bad to worse. The blood now dripped down the right side of his face, blurring his vision further and all he wanted to do was to bend into himself and slip back into the comfort of his dreams where Penny waited, flushed cheeks and wet lips and a t-shirt too tight for comfort.

Yep, he could definitely stay there for a bit longer; so he curled up on his side and let Penny drag him back with a sigh and a smile.

"Sam." barked out Dean from above, noticing with alarm that his brother seemed to be shutting down again. "Don't your dare go back to sleep on me little brother."

Sam didn't respond and Dean looked fearfully over to his dad and saw the closed hard expression on his face. "We need to get down there dad, he's not gonna get out of there by himself."

With a small grunt his dad nodded his agreement, his years of experience kicking in as his sharp mind tried to conjure up the best means of salvaging the situation without further harm to his boys. "Did you see any stairs going down to the basement earlier?"

When Dean shook his head his father's eyes darted around the large hallway for a way down and couldn't help but flinch at the precarious state the whole building seemed to be in now. Above him the ceiling sported huge gaps revealing glimpses of the rooms above and the walls themselves looked misshapen and unsafe, readying to cave in with one more shake or tremor.

John Winchester knew that he had to get his sons out fast before the whole damned building came down on them. Jumping down to the floor below was too dangerous, the drop too deep, and he didn't know enough to be able to assess whether they would find a safe exit out.

No, the quickest way was to get one of them down there and drag Sammy back up.

He put a steadying hand on his son's shoulder and met his eyes. "We'll get him out Dean. I'm going back to the car to get the rope. We can haul him up and then we can hightail it out of here. Okay?"

Dean nodded, afraid that his voice would betray his panic and watched his dad scoot back towards the entrance. Looking back down on the once again still form of his brother his stomach knotted in fear. He was too quite again. Too bloody still.

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Whispers tickled his ears, traces of a voice, timid and small, kept nudging at him, asking him something but he didn't want to respond. A cool touch tingled over his face, refreshingly chilled and he sighed.

It felt good, the coldness wrapping around him like a blanket offsetting the hammering in his head and slowly he opened his eyes again. Remembering the last time he had moved his head and the pain that went with it he looked up through the corner of his eye and once again could make out Dean above him.

"Hey…Dean." he called out, suddenly remembering why they were here. "You okay?"

He heard a throaty chuckle from above. "I'm not the one who fell on his ass." There was a slight pause as Dean studied this brother, "Can you get up? Did you break anything, other than your pride, little brother?"

Sam sighed at the too many questions coming his way. He knew that he should be trying harder to stay alert, to find a way out of this, but for the life of him he just couldn't muster the energy to do anything but lay there, absorbing the coolness of the ground under him.

He heard his brother calling out to him again and he swallowed back the pain and turned slowly once again onto his back. to look directly up to him. "I'll be okay." He shivered and added. "Just gonna sleep a bit…."

"No". shouted Dean so loudly that Sam's eyes jerked open in surprise. "Stay awake for Christ sake. Dad's coming back with a rope and I'll be hauling your sorry ass out of there any second. But I need you to stay awake. Ok?"

There was a pause, as Dean struggled to hear a response from his brother. Softly he heard Sam sigh. "Ok.."

With a massive effort Sam tried to get a handle on the pain and disorientation he found himself in. Ignoring the smarting from new bruises along his back and legs he straightened himself out and slowly tried to sit up, propping himself up with his elbows whist the world topsy turvied dizzyingly.

Fighting down the nausea rolling up his throat again he looked back up at Dean and with a small sigh asked. "S'pose Dad is mad at me again, eh?"

"No." snapped back Dean too quickly. "This was an accident. Remember? The floor opened up and you fell in." He could see the frown on his kid brother's face, and he gruffly added. "Don't make this into something it isn't."

He heard Sam give a small snort of self-doubt and for the first time he noticed the blood coating the right side of his face. "Jesus Sammy couldn't you have found a softer place to land on other than your stupid head?"

"Thought you said I landed on my butt." smiled Sam back up tiredly in return.

"Yeah well it might have been better if you had dude."

Scrunching up his face, battling away a gasp of pain Sam added softly so that Dean strained to hear. "Dad will still think this is my fault. You know he always thinks I screw everything up.

Not willing to let his brother wallow in the negative Dean added harshly. "Give him a break Sam. You're not the easiest of people to live with at times what with your sassy mouth and attitude you know."

"You wouldn't know what its like Dean. Everything you do, every task he gives you is done perfectly. Stand up square without any mistakes unlike me…."

He paused and squinted his eyes shut, fighting back the pain, and recalled what his dad has snarled at him in the car. "Just fed up with being second rated all the time by that man".

Dean snapped back, his need to defend his dad an automatic response. "Hey that 'man' is our Dad. Don't you ever forget that."

Sam sighed deeply his voice a whisper. "Not much chance of that."

Dean blinked hard at Sam's response sensing the overwhelming weariness that went with it and felt a pang of empathy for his brother.

During the car ride over to this hunt he had kept his silence as his dad swapped sharp barbs with his brother. This daily battle of wills had become the norm rather than the rarity and all in all it had not been a pleasant journey.

A few miles in the verbal sparring had soon turned ugly and his dad, never patient at the best of times, had not been slow in putting down Sam's hunting abilities as 'mediocre and second rate'. His harsh words effectively crushed his brother into an unnatural silence that his father took as a sign of compliance, but Dean however had seen something different in his brother's dulled eyes and he knew that if his dad wasn't careful they would lose him one day.

Sam would escape his control sooner rather than later on that he would wage money. He was too freaky smart not to. And it scared him senseless.

Now seeing him suffer anew he offered up an olive branch and tried to reach out to his brother. "Look Sam, you and I both know that Dad is just trying to keep you safe. I know he keeps judging you but there are things that you can do that make me a second runner. Your Latin is 10 times better than mine. You can research stuff out way smarter than I can, and…"

Sam interrupted his feel good speech with a mocking self-depreciating laugh. "And it still isn't good enough for him though, is it Dean? Even when I try to do right, to help out, he just doesn't listen. He didn't want to listen to me this morning. He's always got to be right."

Tiredly he added, rubbing away the trickle of blood off his cheek. "Why can't we just do a Saturday now and then with hunting? Play football or something? Just do something normal"

Something snapped inside Dean, hating the way Sam always yearned for the steady white picket fence lifestyle of his friends, and he found himself shouting. "What the hell is it with you and frigging 'normal'? If you haven't guessed it by now Sammy boy normal is just not on the Winchester agenda. 'Bout time you sucked it up and just learned to deal with it."

Dean wished that he cut his own tongue out as he watched as his brother wince visibly at his words letting his dark head dropped down to his chest as if in defeat. He really hadn't meant to put such temper in his tone, but the last few days with the constant bickering between Sam and their father had worn pretty thin.

He could see that his brother was in pain, and not just physically, and just didn't know how to help him with it. Perhaps he was lacking the necessary emotional depth but he just wasn't comfortable with all this touchy feely stuff that made up his younger brother.

Sam screamed empathy with everything he came into contact with, hypersensitive to a degree that it sometimes left Dean more than a little unnerved trying to deal with it. But his brother needed him now and he softened his voice. "Sam, it'll be okay kiddo, trust me on this. "

Sam's head tilted back up at him and as they made eye contact he could see the wounds deep within. The pain written in them made his heart clench tight. "Lets just get you out of here kiddo, then you can bitch about everything and anybody as much as you like. Okay?"

Sam gave a small nod, a slight grin on his face at the notion of being able to vent as much as he liked without the usual customary putdowns. "So Dean…."

"Yeah?"

"You think I've got a sassy mouth then eh?"

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John Winchester was not a man to be messed with, whether it is via some freaky dead thing or a man, and most certainly not by his son. Sam getting into trouble again was wearing out its welcome. There were only so many visits to the local ER that could be explained away as an accident.

Still even he as he raged at Sam's ability to find every possible supernatural means to get hurt, he knew deep down that the reason that this supposedly routine hunt was going so badly was because he had been too eager to get it over and done with.

He could still hear Sam's words warning him that they had not done enough research on the house and the spirits within and that they were mad to be rushing in so unprepared, but he had been ill-prepared to listen.

John Winchester didn't like to admit when he was wrong, and for sure wasn't about to let his youngest son know it, but damn it the kid had been right. He had been reckless in his assumptions and now this was proving to be one seriously fucked up hunt.

If he got his youngest out only a little battered he'd be happy. Hell he'd even let Sam study for his damned tests next week if that allowed them some much needed peace and quiet to reign for a few days. He could do normal at a push for awhile.

With his thoughts now focused on his need to get his sons to safety he sprinted back from the car with the rope over his shoulder and barrelled his way back into the building, ignoring the dangerous warning groans of mortar and bricks all around him. Miss Charlotte and her poxy spirit had caused enough damage to the house and he knew that time for subtlety was at an end.

A quick drop and grab was in order. Get Dean to his brother and then grab them both up to safety before the whole damned building came down on them. It was a plan, simple and straightforward, allowing him to get his sons out of this hell house and back to safety.

Mentally he calculated the actual time it would take to get Dean down to Sam and then for him to haul them both back up. He reckoned that it should only take a few minutes at most.

Ten minutes max. 600 seconds in total to get them back to safety.

Dean looked up with a big grin of relief on his face at this father's return. John quickly threw down the coil of thick rope and quickly started to unravel it, his eyes never leaving his oldest son's face.

"How's he doing? Has he managed to find a way of there yet or what?" he asked, hiding his concern for his youngest son with his usual gruff exterior.

Sam hearing his father's deep dispassionate voice sighed feeling the knot of pain once again forcing its way through his skull. Dejectedly he looked away, not wanting to show his father any weakness and especially not the emotional pain clawing through his chest.

Suck it up. That's what Dean had told him. Suck it up. And that's what he intended to do. He didn't want to disappoint his brother too.

Above him Dean had responded to his father's question with a small shrug of his shoulders. "Well he's a little more alert, though he's gonna have a headache from hell for a while."

He had deliberately ignored his father harsh tone, and instead snatched a look back down to his brother's suddenly silent form again. "Sammy will be fine once we get him the hell of here. A couple of days of bed rest and chicken soup and he'll be his normal happy self again."

John threw him a withering look, noting the hint of sarcasm on his oldest boy's tongue. "You know what to do. Right? I'll drop you down and I'll haul him up first, then you second. Okay?"

Dean knew he wasn't being asked for his consent from his dad but merely to make sure that he new what the orders were. "Yes Sir," he answered and looked back down to his brother throwing him a huge grin. "Hey Princess you ready for your handsome prince to come to your rescue?".

He didn't get to hear Sam's response as suddenly the air was rent with the cracking and shrieking of stone and wood all around them. Above them the ceiling seemed to ripple and heave, and the ground underfoot shook violently knocking both men to the floor. The walls buckled further and fragments of exploding plaster and stone showered all around them.

Dean went to call out his brother's name, desperate to try to get back to the opening as pieces of the building rained down all around them, as once again thick cloying dust obscured his vision, when abruptly his own world went black as a chunk of stone whacked him viciously on the back of the head.

John watched his oldest son fall bonelessly to the ground and braced himself against the tremors underfoot and staggered over to him, calling his name anxiously hoping for some response.

Dean lay perilously close to the edge of the hole that had already taken Sam and John quickly grabbed the limp form of his oldest up over his shoulder, before daring to glance down at his other son.

Somehow Sam had staggered up onto his knees and looked upwards shielding his head with his hands as he was pelted with wreckage from above. Despite the continued tremors, his sole concern was with what has happening above with his brother. His voice broke though the screeching sounds of the house internally imploding. "Dean - what's happening? Are you ok?"

His eyes glanced up between the spread of pared fingers to see briefly his dad's dark eyes boring down at him and with a gasp realised that the had the limp form of his brother over his shoulder. "Oh god - Dean?"

Above him John struggled to stay on his feet, as frighteningly the walls intention of collapsing inwards became more obvious, and the ceiling was raining huge slabs downwards threatening to engulf them all.

There was no other choice left to him now, he had to get at least one of his sons to safety, and the decision made he tore his gaze away from Sam and staggered back towards the entrance, fighting back his tears as he left his youngest behind.

-------------------------------------------------/

The whole building seemed to scream a death cry as John dove through the large doorway, flinging himself and Dean bodily through the gap as the structure continued to crumble away and collapsed inwards.

Choking back a sob he picked up Dean and at a run managed to put some distance between them and the dangerously disintegrating structure.

A thick dark plume of dust and dirt clawed around him and he struggled to drag air into his lungs, but all he could think about was the look Sam had given him as he left him behind.

Clear bright eyes had momentarily locked with his own to give him a knowing stare, aware that his father had made the decision to leave him behind to save his brother.

His choice. To leave him behind to die.

TBC!

-----------------------

_So guys, 2nd chapter done and dusted with and still a bit more to go. More Limp-Sam angst to follow! And Dean is not going to be a happy bunny either! As for John Winchester…….Hmmm!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Wow, all your kind reviews for the first 2 chapters were just so humbling. They really made me feel so much more positive about getting this chapter out. Big thanks to all those who helped me push this along – I wouldn't have done any of this without their kind words of support. _

_So I'm not feeling as green-as-cabbage looking as I did when first starting this piece, but, and it is a big BUT, I still feel I have to warn you all that this is my first stab at doing a multi-chaptered story so please forgive any glaring errors or embarrassing faux pas._

The effects of gravity – Chapter 3: 'It's just not fair' 

John Winchester was made numb, blindly running away from the grief, as the air screamed with the ear-shattering sounds of splintering wood and shattering stone, taunting him as they fell that he had failed.

Mary's baby, her last legacy tattooed into the muscle of his heart, his Sammy, was gone. What was left of this muscle contracted in his chest, stuttered to freeze over and shatter into a thousand bitter shards at the next heartbeat, to leave a void colder than death its self.

He was left teetering on the edge of the sanity, willing to give himself up to the folly of madness rather than face such a desperate pain again. Only for Dean did his legs work hard to get hem to safety, only for his oldest boy could he continue. The loss was consuming him from within, because it was beyond heartache, it was beyond heartbreak, beyond reason.

Yet all the reasoning in the world would not stop the guilt of what he had done disappear. He had dare left behind the one pure thing still left in his fractured existence behind to die. Sam.

/------------------------------------------/

Outside far enough away from the collapsing mansion to keep Dean safe he dropped his oldest son gently to the ground. The soft green grass was a yielding blanket to cushion his too still form. But at seeing the soft even rise and fall of his chest he knew that at least one son was alive.

At seeing his oldest rest so easily John Winchester sunk down onto his knees, his head tucked down to his chest, and his eyes shut tight unwilling to see the devastation in front of him. The air was now sweet, cold and fresh, but he did not want to breathe it in, his chest willingly was twisted in an unbelievable tight vice of agony crushing his lungs.

All of his years of hunting had come to this great failure, and his eyes glistening with unshed tears, still unwilling to spill them because to do so would acknowledge his mistakes, and the truth that went with it.

As he rocked on his haunches in the dirt, fingering the soil pitifully, he was a man as if broken, left dreaming of the impossible. Dreaming that if he wished for it long enough he would be able to reach down and pull his boy from the hold of the cold ground by sheer force of will alone.

As if somehow he might be able to still pull his Sammy up from the clotted knotted ground of dark roots and decay, away from the darkness that his youngest had always feared.

The too fresh memory of his last moments with his boy, though only a second long, stabbed at his mind, reminding him that when he had dared look down into his youngest eyes he had seen a rare moment of trust. The house was destroying itself and still his youngest did not expect him to fail, his gaze confident, expectant, waiting patiently for him to do the impossible and get him also to safety.

Then that look of hope was exorcised as they shared a moment of understanding, his too bright eyes bearing the same look he had witnessed on Mary's face so many years ago.

Mary frightened gaze had understood that he could not save her, pinned impossibly to the ceiling readying to burst into flames. She knew she was about to die. And now that same recognition was reflected in Sam's piercing gaze, acknowledging that his father had to leave him. Leave him to save Dean.

For John the sight froze his heart, chilled his blood, and words refused to leave his constricting throat so he had done the only thing left to him. He tore his face away from the damning stare of his youngest son, and ran.

Now in the safe zone of the outside world, with the cold harsh sunlight of the day blinding his vision, his body defied his wishes and drew in fresh lungs full of air, forcing him to breathe, ignoring the pain of his memories as they merged into one.

Like a gnat buzzing around his head a voice kept whispering the words. "Gone, both gone" and he knew he failed those he loved the most, and all his promises to Mary to keep her children safe were now broken.

Reality now held him tight, the longed for madness slipped sideways and all he wanted to do was to scream, to give voice to the pain tearing him apart. Finally the grief he had internalised exploded outwards, becoming audible as he started to sob a heavy keening wail of utter defeat.

Time passed unaccounted and his breaking sobs turned into smaller hitches, hiccupping painfully in his chest, and bleary eyed he dared pick up his head from his chest and searched out the ruins that had emerged from the settling dust cloud. It offered him no hope as only a shell of a building remained.

The main frontage of this once magnificent building had fallen backwards, its innards crushing everything underneath it and denying any access to the floor below. There was no way his son could have survived this. No way at all.

/---------------------------------------/

It should have been an ending of sorts but this didn't feel quite like what he had expected. Only the pressing weight of something across his chest offered up the explanation that he was still in the house and not yet ready to have that meeting at the Pearly Gates.

So, not dead then Sam, he thought to himself dryly. Not yet anyway he thought as his body rebelled with enough aches and pains to make him groan out loud. Thankfully the once sharp hammering in his head had dulled to a softer throbbing, making his thoughts less jumbled.

Memories resurfaced, falling neatly back into place. He remembered Penny, kissing him so demandingly the night before that he thought at some point if he didn't draw breath he would surely suffocate. And god what her fingers could do had to be illegal in some states he thought. It was a good memory and a ghost of smile crossed his face.

Time shunted forwards and he remembered the hunt going badly, falling, smacking his head, hurting. Dean had been teasing him about having landed on his butt, but his wide green eyes promised that everything would be okay and the hurt would disappear. And Dean was never wrong. Right?

But then he recalled his father's gaze before all hell broke loose and his throat closed tight in the memory. He didn't want to remember that anymore. So tiredly he drifted back off to other fonder memories.

It was the smell that woke him next. The earthy wet smell of something dank and rotten that seeped in all around him. Slowly he opened his heavy lids and was rewarded with a blanketing darkness, and he fought down the feeling of panic coursing through him at the being so blind.

A shift of his body unconsciously in waking, an arm, a leg, or maybe just the act of breathing and the weight on top of him pressed deeper, stabbing harder against flesh and he was instantly alert to the pain.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck", he hissed to himself, and drew in a deep tight breath as he tried to understand where the pain was coming from but for some strange reason he was unable to pin it down. All he knew that it was a constant active presence, and he just wished rid of it.

Stilling his need to move, the stabbing sensation lessened and once again with the relief his thoughts drifted off again. Sleep would be most welcome he decided.

/--------------------------------/

When he woke next it was cold all around him, deliciously cold. It fingered his throbbing head with a light soothing touch, allowing him to drift softly without the urgency of real life to nag at him. He had no sense of time and he could have been out for a minute or an hour. He didn't really care. This empty feeling felt almost blissful.

Then a kaleidoscope of flickering images jumped in full colour into his head and he remembered the sequence of events that had led him to being buried underground. Dancing before his eyes he recalled the imagery of the house breaking into a million pieces and Dean slung over his father's shoulder, which meant that he had been hurt.

"Oh God," he cried out to the darkness. "Dean." The fear of losing his brother sent adrenal pumping through his veins and his pinned body twitched and stirred and with new movement agony resurfaced to stab at him again, dragging him fully awake and alert.

Pain can do that to you – snatch you up away from the blissful state of dreams to the tedious reality of battered limbs and cuts forcing a hissing sound from pursed lips as it tears you awake.

Sam tried to ride with the wave of discomfort that rippled across his body, but the whimper in his throat couldn't be denied as his left shoulder seemed on fire and his chest felt heavy, with a crushing weight seeming to be sitting on top of him.

Just breathing was painful, not helped as his heart beat too rapidly at the thought of Dean being hurt.

Every part of him seemed to be throbbing but it was a secondary consideration as all he could think about was that he had to find his brother, and that meant that he needed to be free. Now.

Don't ever let anyone tell you that Sam Winchester wasn't a stubborn son of a bitch when needed. By all accounts he should be playing dead. After all just like the seriously screwed 'Witch of the East' a house had fallen on him and his body had taken more than its fair share of battering.

Yes, he acknowledged with a wry smile, he should be minus his ruby slippers just about now, but he was not ready to be written out of the story. Not yet. Not till he knew his brother was okay.

Gritting his teeth against the shooting pains in his shoulder and body he managed to lift his right hand out from under the loose rubble, and shakily raised it up to the bridge of his collarbone and chest. A heavy weight seemed to have settled itself over his ribcage and as he felt around it gave a little, shifted slightly to the right of him with the movement.

For a moment his paused, trying desperately to drag more air into his constricted lungs, then using his right hand and forearm as a fulcrum he started to lever upwards against the mass pushing with all the strength that he had left, till the slab of plaster and wood toppled away from him with a soft whoosh.

The relief was instantaneous. His bruised ribcage rapidly expanded as his lungs drank in deeply and greedily cool refreshing air.

For a few seconds he just lay there, letting the oxygen in his blood replenish itself and the strength to his limbs return. Then slowly he started to measure the damage to his body, wiggling his toes and ankles first and blew out a shaky thanks that at least his legs still seemed to be in working order.

Another thumbs up he told himself, because now he might just be able to walk away from this one - given half a chance that is.

From the burning sensation in his chest he guessed that he must have cracked a few ribs, and gently his right hand ran across them assessing the sore spots but there seemed to be no breakages. Still doable he told himself. A few cracked ribs shouldn't stop him from getting his butt off the ground and standing again he told himself.

The stabbing pain in left shoulder demanded his attention next and his right hand searched around blindly for the cause. It was soon found, a large chunk of something metal had decided to nail itself through his flesh, the widest part jutting out of his shoulder by a good few inches. When he pulled at it gently the pain screamed through him like fire.

"Shit" he thought feeling the slick slide of blood on his fingers, "that fucking hurt," and he decided that for the moment it was just best to leave it were it was.

Seriously unnerved by being totally in the dark he sought to remedy the situation and shakily his right hand searched out to his left side and relief flooded through him when it felt the straps of his backpack.

Quickly, ignoring the spasms in his body, he snagged the sack up onto his chest, and searched within for the rubberised touch of his torch. A smile of relief washed over his tired face when he was able to pull it out, praying silently that it had not been damaged in the fall as he thumbed the on switch. He was rewarded with a bright circle of light hitting the ceiling above him.

"Well I'll be damned," he sighed to himself "At least something has gone right today."

Curiously he swung the torch around in a low arc and swallowed back a moment of fear at the sight it revealed. The cellar had been peppered with blocks of stone, wooden beams and metal girders from above skewering the walls and floor. It looked a like a giant game of pickup sticks gone wrong he thought idly.

He blew out a shaky gasp of relief, marvelling at how he had not been made into shish kebab, and then gave a small involuntary nervous giggle at the thought. Yeah, shish kebab Sam - now that would not have been fun he told himself, before wincing as the fire in his shoulder reminded him that he had not got off entirely Scot-free.

'Time to get your butt up Sam', he told himself deciding there and then that he would find a way out of this hell. It was time to find his brother.

Ignoring the scream of battered ribs and muscles he drew himself shakily up on to his knees. He needed a few moments to find a steady breath and batter down the feeling of vertigo that had swept over him. The enemy within fought a battle for control as fresh hurts revealed themselves but Sam had faced pain before on many different levels and wasn't about to let it take control of the game.

His faced beaded with a grey coating of perspiration as he fought to stay upright and after a few moments his body steadied itself and he allowed himself a tight grin of satisfaction that he had not fallen back down. If he fell down he honestly didn't think he would be able to get up again.

His hopes rising that escape was still an option he swept the beam of the torch around his prison looking for some way out. He carefully unbuckled his watch from his useless left arm and gave a small grunt of surprise at seeing that it was still only mid afternoon.

This new knowledge only made him feel worse as any welcoming shafts of sunlight seeping from any cracks from above were missing. The world from above had buried him alive in this hell-hole.

With no visible escape routes at hand anger started to replace the fear that had burned first inside. What might have been normal teenage irritation amplified itself expedientially till all he wanted to punch something good and hard. And he would have done, but bodily hurts kept him firmly on his knees while tears of frustration stung his eyes.

Irritably he batted the errant tears away, not willing to allow this show of weakness to diminish any of his anger. Aware of how childish he might sound he just wanted to scream this was just no fair. Not bloody fair at all. e

A voice kept whispering maliciously in his ear that none of this would have happened if his all-knowing father had listened to him just this once. If dad had paid any attention to his warning he wouldn't be stuck in this damned prison alone, hurt, battered and concussed. He'd still be able to have that date with Penny and Dean wouldn't have been hurt.

God, he groaned out loud, what a completely fucked up day this was. And hell yes this day was officially now in his top 5 list of 'Why I hate being a Winchester'. Or more precisely why he really hated being John Winchester's son.

The need to confront all the slights and hurts visited on him by his father was growing within him, the anger channelling itself with a purpose, giving him extra fire in his bones, extra determination to find a way out of this nightmare. Now dark questions started to worry away at him, eating away like acid in his mind.

_Where the hell was his dad now?_ _Were he and Dean still alive?_ God no, denied Sam, that was not a possibility he would entertain. His brother just had to be safe. And yes his dad had to be alive to, so that he could finally tell him face-to-face what a major screw up of father he was.

After all why did his make him come on this stupid hunt in the first place despite all his protestations? Was he doing it just out of spite to drag him away from his revising so that he could fail his exams next week?

Did that man honestly think that going up against poltergeists and demons on daily basis was a good thing for his sons? Or that his studies were a waste of time leading him nowhere?

Did he really expect him to be happy living this life of demon and ghost hunting, when clearly, as his dad kept telling him, what a major failure and disappointment he was at not being able to follow _his _orders, _his_ commands, the _way _Dean did.

Even when he dared to open his mouth and ask a simple '_Why'_ instead of the prerequisite "_Yes Sir and I'll shut the fuck up_" he knew that his father would never answer him directly. It just wasn't worth his time explaining it to him when he had already told everything he needed to say to Dean, right?

Or maybe today his dad had just wanted to prove a lesson to him again, that he was just not good enough to join the exclusive 'Pat-on-the-back-you-did-good' hunting club that he and his circles of buddies made up.

Caleb, Pastor Jim, Bobby, and more importantly Dean, they all passed muster and had an open door to this little club. Just not Sam 'second rate' Winchester.

The tears that he had so desperately to keep back started to tumble. This pain was too deep to ignore, more damaging than the physical cuts and bruised he was wearing, an encompassing hurt knowing that his father could never love him the way he loved his brother.

The one memory he didn't want to acknowledge kept battering away at his defences. His father's acknowledging look as he left him behind could no longer be banished from his sight.

He knew why his dad cut and run. Saving number one son had to come first, why go for second choice when you already had the best in your grip. And the best as always to John Winchester was what counted. Dean counted more and it was as simple as that.

Then the anger that boiling away inside cooled to bubble slowly in his veins, to throb in his skull, as he thought about his brother. None of this was fair, not to him and most certainly not to Dean, and deep down he could hot really hate his father for saving the best part of their little screwed up family.

Dean was their centre, the gravitational force that kept them from spiralling away from each other. He anchored them together, and without him there would be nothing.

No, he realised dejectedly, his Dad had made the right choice. It made perfect sense for him to save that closest to him, the strongest link that chained them all together.

It was logical. It was honest. But it still damn well hurt.

/-------------------------------------------------/

A shuddering breath brought Dean awake, and confused eyes searched out his surroundings his eyes watering at the sharp bright sunlight he found himself bathed in. Squinting he was confused to see his father sitting slumped with his back to him on the ground, his eyes staring into the distance, fingers idly playing in the dirt.

"Dad" he called out, trying to raise himself to a sitting position, ignoring the 'thunk-thunk' throb at the back of his head, green eyes widening in alarm. "Where the hell is Sammy?

John looked slowly over to him, his eyes dark and hollow, and lifting a shaky finger pointed to the ruins in front of them, and Dean screamed for his brother.

/--------------------------------------------------/

Tentatively drawing himself to standing position Sam rubbed furiously away his tears. He was done with the self-pity, and was smart enough to that this destructive inner pain had to be put to one side as it wasn't going to help him get out of this mess.

He lurched forward and found himself clinging onto a skewered beam of wood for support as his head decided to remind him that he had attempted to split his skull open on his first major whumping of the day.

His right hand found the wound on his hairline, and came away relatively clean. The blood had thankfully dried to a thickening scab but the effects of the concussion were making itself known once more as his stomach finally rebelled and he upchucked all over the floor. Grimacing at the final heave, Sam tried to straighten again, wiping a dirty cuff across his wet mouth.

He wasn't sure at first whether it was because his eyes were so watery from vomiting so hard or if he was just going plain crazy but something distinct moved to the side of him.

Swinging his torch round the light splayed across the far wall and again he caught the movement of something not yet solid enough to bend the light to give it true form.

Eyes widening in disbelief he watched it flicker to move in tight jerky movements, like a puppet on a string, a distorted pantomime image weaving itself between and through the encircling beams of wood and metal.

Sam sucked back a small moan of fear having faced enough unnatural entities in is too short life to not realise that he now had his own personal Casper, more than likely wanting to play patty-cake with his head, coming towards him.

"Oh Shit," he whispered out loud and found himself asking if this freaking day could get any worse? He choked but a laugh, his hysteria wanting to break free, and decided there and then that this day was going straight to the top of his most hated list.

T.B.C……..

/-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

_**Sorry for ladling on the angst. It just took over with a mind of its own and made itself write itself across the page. Also I know there was not a lot of Dean in this one, but I just felt that the focus needed to be on John & Sam! Next chapter expect a desperate and angry Dean, a shattered John and a seriously freaked out Sammy!**_

_**Roz. **_

**Ps. Faye, Carocali & Gemini is this limpSam enough for you yet?**


	4. Chapter 4

**Big huge mega thanks to all my great reviewers. It's a real kick to get such positive feedback. Just hope this chapter won't disappoint! Roz.**

_Okay, usual disclaimers apply. Kripke et al own the whole show! _

/---------------------------------/----------------------------------/

**The effects of Gravity**

**Chapter 4: Dean Winchester vs the laws of physics.**

Dean looked wildly at his father, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest that he though the thud-thud must be audible. When he found his voice it sounded painfully weak to his own ears as he asked. "Where the hell is Sammy?"

When his father pointed to the ruins of the house he knew somebody was screaming out his brother's name but it took him a moment to recognise his own voice. Strangling back the sound the onset of true fear consumed him and he staggered to his feet, lurching forward in an uneven gait to towards what was left of the mansion.

The last thing he remembered was readying to go down to his brother with the rope and then next he knew he was waking up in a bright haze of sunshine, the bees buzzing and his father sitting besides him looking somehow 'broken'.

Ignoring the sharp stabbing pains in the back of his skull he tried to rationalise the impossible. This just couldn't be true. Dad would have got _him_ out, _he_ would have saved him.

'To hell with this,' he swore to himself, 'This isn't what a Winchester did - not save the day, not save an innocent, and most importantly not save his baby brother.' What the hell was his dad playing at squatting on his ass on the grass doing jack nothing.

Fear turned to an emerging anger, and twisting his neck round he looked sharply at his father. "Tell me you've done something whilst I was out for the count old man. Tell me you've tried to find him and get him out?"

John lifted up his head and seemed to study his son's face, as if confused by the questions. It was the longest second before he whispered a return. "Dean, I couldn't get him out. Sam's go….."

He got no further for as shaky as Dean was on his feet he managed to leap the divide between them in a stride to man haul his father up by his lapels to meet him nose to nose. His anger and disbelief visceral as he growled out a warning. "Don't you dare say it. He is not dead you hear me. He's not. I won't fucking allow it."

John looked into his son's intense eyes and witnessed the fear and anger within, and he felt a shudder of pain run through him, reconnecting him back to the physical world.

The loss of Sam would destroy Dean and he just wished he could stop his world from shattering. Not like this. Not least because of his mistakes.

For the first time ever in his life John Winchester wanted to run away. Run as fast as he could from the accusatory eyes staring back at him. Why couldn't he just disappear and hide and take Dean with him so that he would never learn the truth of what he had done. Or more precisely what he hadn't been able to do.

Voices whispered dark thoughts in his mind. That perhaps if he turned away now, ignore the crumbled ruins screaming out to the world that he had failed, he might be able to pretend that his mistake was not going to destroy them all. If he closed his eyes then might none of this be real, that none of this actually happened?

But Dean eyes would not let him slip away. His son's gaze tore through him raining a heavy down pour of guilt on his already too heavy shoulders.

With a strength that few could resist he grabbed Dean tightly into an embrace, not yet ready to lose him to the tidal wave of grief that would follow at the loss of his brother.

Whispering in his oldest ear he held him as firm as he could, feeling the ripple of resistance fighting through Dean at the contact, "I'm sorry, there was no choice. Forgive me."

Dean exploded angrily out of his father's reach, fighting back a sob of disbelief, not willing to let go of the hope that his brother was still somehow alive. "You don't know what your saying. I don't believe you."

His mind whirled furiously looking for some hook to keep his hope alive. The fact that gravity had done its worse to the building above the ground didn't mean that the floor beneath had caved in to. Did it?

Pushing away his fathers reaching hands, not wanting to feel his touch, his neglect, he voice shook as he stuttered out his hope. "No, no, dad, listen He was underground right? So he could still be okay. We could…. I can still get him out."

His consternation grew when he asked his father next. "You rang the emergency services right? How long did they say they'd be? John Winchester stood there blank faced, and Dean had his answer. "Damn it, what the hell is wrong with you?"

As his son cursed him out something flared within John Winchester, triggered in part by the disappointment wrapping itself around Dean as he realised his father had been found wanting. His face hardened, letting the hunter within take control again, putting aside the grief to refocus on what needed to be done to save his relationship with his son.

Adrenal started to pump through his veins again, and a growl, guttural, uncomplicated met Dean's questions whilst his hand snaked up his phone to his ear. I've screwed up enough he realised. Dean didn't need this crap. What he needed was to have some faith in him again.

His deep resonant voice sounded scarily calm as he spoke to the emergency operator. "I need assistance. There's been a quake and my son was in Farnborough House when it hit. Yeah its just off junction 12."

He paused, listening to carefully asked questions at the other end of the phone, whilst watching with a careful eye the back of his son's head as he stormed away from him in search of his brother.

Wanting to wrap up the call as soon as he could he fired back quick answers to their stock questions. "Yes, he's sixteen. He was in the cellar when it hit. The building has come down on top of him."

Another question and his irritation grew. "Look goddamit just get the your people here as soon as possible. My son is buried alive for Christ sake. He needs help now."

'I've wasted enough time already' he wanted to add as he clicked the phone shut and chased after his oldest son.

/------------------------------------------------------/

Still feeling light headed Sam purposely ignored the throbbing in his skull and stood momentarily transfixed as the ghostly presence drew nearer. A scowl marred his face as his eyes in the dim light tried to make out the shape.

The figure continued to inch it way forwards towards him. Involuntarily he backed up against the solid touch of a slanted wooden beam and aimed his torch towards it, the light illuminating the gradually solidifying figure.

He felt his gut roll, and the feeling of nausea followed as the distorted shape jerked and spasmed in the dim light. Swallowing back the burn of acid in his throat he knew that he just wasn't up to playing ghost buster right now.

This day was just kept going from bad to worse, he surmised, what with being buried underground, a concussion, ribs screaming every time he breathed, a stomach wanting to empty itself despite what his ribs might say, and all the while sporting a chunk of metal in his shoulder which made his left arm virtually useless and hurt every time he moved or even thought about it.

And now he had a frigging ghost to deal with. Not good at all.

Just how much more crappy could this day get? he asked himself

Was he being made the butt of some unknown force determined to visit every cosmic supernatural induced jokes on him today? Because even if he had tried intentionally his darkest imagination could never had envisaged such a bad run of luck - ever.

If the truth be known young Sam Winchester just wasn't up to anything other just keeping enough air in his lungs to stay alive. Fighting of the ungodly, especially if this ghostly apparition was a certain Miss Charlotte intent on making a second appearance, just wasn't an option at the moment.

That seriously whacked out 'demon bitch from hell' hadn't played nicely the first time round he recalled. Not nice at all.

No, he decided he most definitely was not prepared to fight off any more Casper's, whether they might be supernatural spirits, poltergeists, demons or even concussion induced hallucinations.

Feeling the strength leave him his arm lowered and the light skittered across the floor. For the longest moment he wished his brother was here with him. Dean always kept him safe, and he just knew that his brother would have dealt with this latest little hiccup with his normal smart mouth lets 'kick it's ass' attitude in no time at all.

Hoping that his brother was still around to fight the good fight he whispered under his breath as the misty shape drew too close for comfort. "Come on make with the rescue Dean, I could do with a little help big brother"

Just saying the words brought a twisted smile to his face, and his self-belief grew once again at just thinking about Dean.

The laws of being a Winchester dictated that he would be okay as long as his big brother was still out there playing superhero.

/-------------------------------------/

"Sammy" he called a few times, ears pricking for a response as he stood outside looking in through the fractured main entrance way of the house. A façade of a surround of bricks and lintel, held up by some invisible wire, was mockingly still shaped as a doorway into a house that no longer existed.

"Goddamit Sam" he yelled hoarsely, "You better not be sleeping on the job when I call you like this. You'd better answer me boy." His voice dropped to a desperate whisper. "Please Sammy."

His worried pleas was met with an unnatural silence and his fear grew deeper as he entered the ruins.

It was dangerous ground to be walking on, made up of a jumble of large blocks, from waist high to above his head, together with a melee of sharp and loose objects that shifted underfoot every time he placed his weight on them.

Any sense of danger Dean might have felt were numbed by the fact that his baby brother was somewhere buried underneath this mess.

It looked like a war zone and Dean chewed his bottom lip fighting back his tears. How could his brother had survived this mess? Was his dad right - was there really no hope?

"Sam" he called out again refusing to believe the impossible. "If you can hear me little brother, we're going to get you out. Just hang on…I'll find you. I promise."

A noise behind, a crunching of stone and glass, made him turn round sharply, expectantly. It wasn't his much hoped for brother emerging miraculously like the phoenix rising from the ashes, but instead he came face to face with his father once again.

He blew out a disappointed breath, his throat suddenly so tight he couldn't even voice out his frustration. He wanted his brother, not this strange shell of a man who purported to his dad.

_His_ dad wouldn't have just sat there crying like a baby as the house came down on his brother

_His _dad was after all Mr Unbreakable, the founding stone of his sense of purpose and belief.

_His_ dad had made him believe that being a Winchester made you invincible. That all things are impossible, and any laws were breakable, including the laws of physics.

And fuck it yes_ His_ dad would have thrown the building back up in the air as it dared to fall down on his brother, brick by bloody brick, and _his _dad would have got Sam out.

That's who his dad was. And he wanted him back.

John face did not betray the momentary ache at seeing his son look so coldly at him. He deserved it, letting him down so badly when he needed him to be strong. Stronger.

Dean needed to believe, needed to feel that the promise of a miracle was possible, and no matter how much he could not share in that belief he could pretend it, if that was needed, to keep him from losing Dean too.

/--------------------/

As the shape became concrete a nervous giggle came out unchecked as he realised it was not the dreaded Miss Charlotte before him after all. It was a little bit too short for that, coming just waist high to Sam's tall frame.

Finding the strength to lift his arm again he swung the torch back up to flicker on the small withered husk of a child standing directly now only an hands breath away from him. The light picked out dark orbs staring intently back at him and a chill run up his spine and his throat shut tight.

For Sam he didn't know what was worse, the scary spectre in front of him or the fact that some poor child's soul had been trapped in the darkness alone to mutate into this terror.

As if sensing his empathy the small figure reached out a chalky hand, stretching out the bony fingers as if to touch his own. Sam flinched involuntary, unable to back up any further and braced himself for the chilling touch not sure if it meant to hurt him or not.

"Who are you?" he managed to ask as the paralysis in his throat eased, all the while pulling his arm away from the approaching hand. He didn't think he could endure the touch and the fear that went with it.

If Sam could have ran he would have. Winchester bravado be damned. This was seriously freaky stuff going on here, but the fact was that his head was beating a less than a happy tune and his left shoulder hurt like the bejeezers, so running wasn't really an option.

Instead he remained frozen to the spot as the ghost clamped surprisingly strong fingers around his wrist.

Tears sprung involuntary to his eyes as the warmth was leeched from his body so that slowly what little energy that was left was pulled from him. His legs shook and he could no longer support himself upright and he found himself sinking down on to his knees so that their eyes met level.

Cold tendrils of mist sprung up from his lips as the ghost kept up its touch and Sam felt any resistance drain out of him.

The blackness of the child's eyes glassy stare terrified him.

"Please," he heard himself finally begging, "Please… no." The skin on his wrist felt on fire, as if the freezing fingers had torn strips of flesh from him.

Unexpectedly the child's head snatched back in a weird jerk as if struck by his words and its bony fingers sprang open releasing his wrist. Its head titled at an odd angle throwing him a confused look before taking a few a shuddering steps backwards, and hissed. "I'm sorry"

Sam's eye widened in surprise as it started to withdraw back into the shadows, starting to lose substance as it departed. Needing to have some answers Sam called out after it, despite what the response might be. "Who are you?"

A tired sigh seemed to sing out from the retreating ghost. "I was called David."

The ghost then disappeared back into the walls to leave a confused and weary Sam alone once again. "David who?" he called out again, but was only met with a terrible silence.

'Damn' thought Sam, his mind leapfrogging over all the possibilities of why the child's ghost had come to him. He could sense, no matter what had just transpired, that that it hadn't meant any real harm to him and may just be able to get out him of this hellhole.

"Please", he called out his voice louder and more urgent. "Stay. Tell me why you're here?"

'Help me' he wanted to scream after it but the torchlight revealed only the confines of his prison.

David was gone and Sam was left to think bitterly once again at just what a screwed up hunt this had become. Their lack of research kept coming back to bite him on the backside time and time again.

Now as his eyes searched out the darkness all he could ask was, 'Just who the hell was David?'

/----------------------------------------/

The claxon of fire engines and emergency crews filled the air and a feeling of relief lifted off Dean shoulders at the noise. "Hang on Sammy" he whispered. "Helps on its way now."

John Winchester blew out a long tired breath as the Fire-chief approached him. Making himself stand straighter he shook away the lingering effects of defeat that had held him trapped, paralysed that was until Dean's justifiable anger shook him awake.

He had let his boys down enough today. It was about time he stood up to the plate and got them all out of this mess the best they could.

Quickly he spun an easy lie, the words fluid on his lips as he told the Fire-chief a tale of why they had happened to be in the house when the quake shook.

Tourists. Simple as that. Stupid idiot tourists going into a house readying to topple down at a sneeze. And it had.

His face looked contrite enough to stop any rebuke from the older man, a large bullish figure in his uniform, and as the game unfurled the various players took up their positions and the hunt to get his son out of the rubble was about to begin in earnest.

He just prayed alive.

/-----------------------------------/

"David" called Sam tiredly again, his energy levels spent so that he could barely keep himself up in a sitting position. "Come back. Please."

He fought back a shiver, his body too tired and hurt to offset the chill in the air in the cold dank cellar. It was made worse as the spilt blood from his shoulder wound had turned from warm red to a dark icy stain across the front of shirt, clinging frostily against his skin.

Tired fingers searched out the metal jutting out of his shoulder, and a spasm of pain rippled across the muscle. With an acknowledging sigh he recognised the need for it to come out. Now rather than later. He'd rather bleed to death quickly than let the fire in his shoulder continue to sap bit by bit what little strength he had left.

He surprised himself at the variety of curse words that exploded from his lips as his fingers twisted around the metal and before he could give into the pain, with a tightening breath, he yanked it free.

Agony followed sharp and brutal, but he was able to breath through it, clamping his palm over the open wound, as the blood flowed freely again. The warmth oozing through his fingers felt strange and once again the dizzy light headed feeling that had struggled in the background to pull him back to sleep seemed all too important.

"Dean", he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Cold fish eyes stared out of the darkness, heard his whispered apology, and the ghost stepped back from the shadows to glance curiously down at the sleeping boy.

The light that radiated from his soul was too attractive to ignore.

/------------------/----------------------/

**T.b.c**

_So, sorry for the delay in getting this chapter up, but I am battling on with the next one as we speak and hopefully will be able to update sooner rather than later! Again forgive any errors, typos, etc!_

_Roz._


	5. Chapter 5

**_All those great reviews have kept me nicely fed - so thank you guys for giving me the encouragement to keep going with your kind words. I just hope you enjoy the continuation. Let me know what you think_**!

_So on a personal note call me cruel but I am having way too much fun in whumping the boys to put an end to it all in this chapter. Again any major gaffes and spelling mistakes are all of my own doing. Sorry. __Roz._

Usual disclaimers re: Supernatural copyrights etc, apply.

/------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

**The effects of gravity**

**Chapter 5 - Just what does a guy have to do to catch a break!**

The fact that he had swayed on his feet may have well have been due to the treacherous ground underfoot, but his next action could not be ignored as he threw up in such spectacular fashion that all eyes turned to him.

'Impressive.' thought Dean as he watched his stomach contents arc outwards to splash up against a slab of white masonry.

'Disgusting.' was his next thought as he made out pieces of his breakfast splattering the white stone. "Oh man." he groaned as his vision wobbled, "This is so not good".

The thudding in the back of his skull just didn't want to let up and he knew that he had taken a pretty nasty knock to feel so weak like he did. Still, concussion or not, Dean Winchester was not going to let a little bump on his head stop him. His head was too damned hard to let a little bit of bashed in skull stop him from doing his superman act. Right?

As he straightened up his dad was instantly at his side, cursing under his breath at not realising just what a fragile state his eldest was in. He had been knocked out for a good length of time and was bound to be feeling the affects of such a heavy blow.

Once again the weary burden of guilt ate away inside him. What sort of father was he to let his oldest wander around this hell of a ruin in such a state? Too many times today he had screwed up and now both of his sons were paying the price.

Dean had wanted to protest as he was steered him away to safer ground but the way his father held him tightly round the waist and the way his vision kept swimming in and out of focus he really didn't have much choice in the matter.

A new pale shirted form was by his side, a voice he didn't recognise asking his dad questions and next fingers brushed up by the back of his head and he knew had sworn out loud by the way the fingers flew away at the curse.

"Okay sir, I'm going to take him back my rig, see just what the damage is and do what I can fix it up. Looks like he took one hell of whack."

The fresh-faced paramedic seemed too young to John's eyes and swallowing back a ping of pain he recognised the same earnest look on his face that Sam always had when he asked a question of him.

Numbly he nodded his permission as he felt too brittle to speak and watched as the paramedic took hold of Dean's arm and slowly started a careful measured walk to his rig.

Flustered at feeling so helpless Dean didn't appreciate being sidelined so forcibly. It was his baby brother down there, hurt and alone and he'd be damned if some snot nosed fancy shirted whatever tried to usher him away. The words 'fuck you' were neatly formed on his lips before the heavy clamping hand of his father squeezed his shoulder in restraint and the words stalled as he turned to meet his father desperate stare.

"Dean please. Let them help you. I can't…." As he spoke John's voice cracked and he knew that he was pleading with his son, but at the moment he'd get down on his knees and beg if that's what it took to make sure his eldest was okay.

He squeezed his shoulder again, trying to impart his need for him to be safe. "Please son."

Dean felt his eyes sting at the need in his father's voice and gruffly agreed. 'Okay, but I'm telling you its just a little headache. I'll be fine with a couple of Advil. You come and get me the moment they find Sam. Clear old man?'

John nodded and Dean let out a resigned sigh, and backed out of his father's reach and walked slowly away with the paramedic. With a backwards glance he saw a scurry of activity on the borders of the house, the emergency services had responded in full and already the fire crews were assembling various pieces of equipment, and voices loud and rushed filled the air as the urgency of the situation became clearer to all involved.

'Hold on Sammy', he whispered, 'Just don't go do any thing foolish like die you freaky moronic idiot.'

Allowing himself to be seated on the steps of the rear of the ambulance he felt something wrap around his arm and the thump-thump of the blood pressure cuff as it inflated squeezed tight so that he winced and threw a vicious look at the attending paramedic.

The look quickly changed from a scowl to one of surprise. Pretty little blonde thing at the 1'0'clock position came clearer into view and involuntary a grin came to his face.

He whispered a thought to his brother. "See Sammy even on a royally screwed up day like this things aren't always that bad"

Janice couldn't help but offer back a broad smile at the wide grin on her patient's face. The fact was, besides the dirt and grime that marred his face, he was one hell of a looker.

/---------------------------------------------------------/

Should he do this he asked himself, watching as the once bright light that had enveloped the sleeping form dimmed to a paler shade of gold, all the whiles his small hand hovered over the open wound.

If he did nothing then he might pass over and stay with him. It was so lonely being here that the temptation to do nothing and let him slip away was strong. They could stay together perhaps. Become friends?

The older boy seemed so big, so grown up, and in complete contrast to him and all he could do was remember once what had been. A small non-perfect child, with a crooked spine and a limp.

Never beautiful or perfect enough to display. So much easier to hide away.

Doubts wore easily on his fragile psyche, asking what this older boy would want to do with a small boy like him? Friendship was such a fragile thing And he hadn't had a friend since forever. Not since Miss Charlotte stopped his friendship with old Mr Gibson, the Gardener that is.

Since he had died he had tried to leave the world of the living behind him, but he was never able to pass on. So for David, his death, it had been the longest of ages as the world and time spiralled forwards. And he was alone.

Now all he knew was that he hated the silence.

Katie had promised she'd visit him, she'd promised everyday that she would come, but she hadn't come for the longest of time.

He couldn't count the time in days, weeks or years now. It had been an eternity and Miss Charlotte wouldn't let him go find her even when he had cried for his sister for what seemed forever.

Miss Charlotte had said that she had gone away on purpose. That Katie didn't need a useless cripple of a brother to spoil her chances in society. And he knew in his heart that this might be true.

His step-mother had told him that he was an embarrassment to be hidden away, and that she was doing what was best for the family. For Katie. And he knew that must have been true because Katie hadn't come to visit him even when he died.

It had the taken the longest of time to let his body give into the pain of starvation, resisted in part by the futile hope that his sister would come back for him. But she hadn't. And he'd died.

It had felt strange to not float away, upwards, like he had imagined when he left the withered shell of his body. Instead he was left trapped in the darkness, as Miss Charlotte didn't want him to come out to the light. Forbade him such a luxury.

And he had learnt to his cost that you had to do what Miss Charlotte said. Always.

For a while he could not reason things clearly and he had stayed by his body for a while needing the connection, but eventually it disturbed him to see the changes taking place and soon after that he left his small playroom to search out the confines of his prison in greater detail.

Ghosts don't always have memories of what it was to be human all neat and tidy as when they were alive, and so he didn't question the fact that his now dead eyes could see in the darkness as clear as if he was standing in sunshine.

The cellar area went clear under the length of the house, segmented into private rooms and storage areas and for a while he had fun exploring his new playground. But the loneliness crept back again and Miss Charlotte sensing that he was still around slowly started her war of torment.

There was so much missing in the dark. He missed sunshine. He wanted to see the colour green again. To just once more see the tall cedar trees and the blue of the lake. But most of all he wanted to see Katie again.

Miss Charlotte knew all that and at times she would sometimes sit on the ballroom floor and whisper through the cracks all the reasons why he couldn't come up to her and see the real world again. She was quite content to let her 'little disappointment' rot away into nothingness.

She had left him die to alone in the dark.

Just like this boy's daddy had to done to him.

With a sigh David could still vaguely remember what it felt like to experience true pain and reluctantly touched the boy's shoulder and let the cold from his touch freeze over the wound.

David for all his loneliness didn't want the once bright light of this boy's soul to dissipate like his own.

/---------------------------------------------------------/

"Hey Dean," spoke the young paramedic, "My names Pete. My colleague Janice is taking your blood pressure. Okay?

Sharp eyes studied his patient's pale and pinched expression and when Janice whispered at the too high reading he frowned and asked. "So on a scale of 1 to 10 how bad is your headache?"

Dean wanted to lie but his voice betrayed him as it answered. "Eleven. My guts aren't doing too well either."

With that he suddenly lurched forward and what was left of his breakfast came out at a rush. Steadying hands soon had him seated again and a moist wipe was run over his mouth and chin to clean him up.

"Jeezuz" he groaned as the world tilted alarmingly and he knew he would have fallen straight on to his face if the two medics were not forcibly keeping him upright. For once his hard head had taken one knock too many, and he knew he had one hell of a concussion going on here.

Still he didn't feel so good he couldn't but help worry about just how bad his brother might be feeling right now. If Sam had hit his head as hard as he had then they were both in serious trouble.

Instantly like a punch of fear to his gut his brother's fate over-road all his own physical hurts and he lurched back onto his feet. "Oh god, they have to get him out. He busted up his head when he fell."

Pete tried to force him back down but Dean's fingers curled tightly on to his forearm and he knew he would be sporting bruises tomorrow. Dean's terror deepened at the thought of his brother alone and hurt and his voice turned to a tight frightened whisper. "I have to get him out. He hates the dark."

"Dean please stay calm. Your not helping your blood pressure any here," interceded Janice, her hands reaching into her trauma bag to find a sedative.

Tears threatened to fall as he looked at her. "You don't understand. I promised him. I swore to him that I'd get him out. He's waiting for me to get …"

Pete took control again. "Its okay Dean, everyone is doing all they can to get your brother out. Right now I think you need to worry a bit about yourself."

He managed to manoeuvre the surprisingly strong man back onto the step and checked each eye with his penlight. All though his pupils were reactive they were a little sluggish and Dean had winced visibly at the intrusion of the bright light, batting away his torch with a warning growl.

Pete pursed his lips, he had no doubt that Dean had a concussion, he just needed to get him back to County to see just how bad it was. A possibility of a skull fracture or sub-dermal haematoma couldn't be ruled out, though hopefully all it would be was a severe concussion. A concussion as severe as his was nasty at the best of times.

Still it was going to be hard to convince the man sitting down to allow him to take him away from the scene, he just screamed 'stubborn' the moment he had set eyes on him, but his patient had to come first and he bit the bullet.

"Dean listen to me, you have a severe concussion going on here. You need a CT scan at the least but an MRI would be better, just to make sure there's no internal bleeding going on. Okay?"

Dean scowled angrily back up. "Sonnovabitch, like hell you think I'm gonna leave this shit-hole. I'm not going anywhere. - not till they get Sam out. You hear me?"

He rose shakily to his feet, whacking away the resisting arm of the medic, his focus once again was on getting back to his brother, barking out an order.. "Just give me couple of painkillers and I'll be fine."

Pete blocked his path. "I'm sorry you're going to need more than a few Advil to fix this up. You can't play around with a head injury like this. You have to go to County…"

John Winchester had returned to his son's side just in time to hear the medic's words and he guessed at how badly this request was going down with his eldest. Not known for his restraint at the best of time Dean's mouth took over and the shocked medic had the grace to blush at the few choicer phrases chucked his way.

John was going to intercede, to spare the beleaguered medic from any further ear bashing, but there was a sudden fresh commotion behind and he turned to a thunderous noise and his mouth opened with a shout of denial. "Sam," he screamed out loud, the terror in his voice stopping Dean in mid-rant.

At hearing his father's call out his brother's name so fearfully Dean's eyes followed his father's gaze and the blood drained from his face.

"Sammy." he screamed, yanking out of the medics restraining hand and at broken lurch tried to get back to the house. "Please god No."

Afterwards John Winchester swore that his heart had stopped a second time that day. Died and shrivelled into nothing.

/---------------------------------------------------------/

When had it got so warm, he asked himself with a tired sigh. The chill that had once wrapped so nicely around him was gone and the air was thick and sultry, like the hottest July day in New York.

Could be a fever he thought sluggishly. Why not? After all he deserved one just about now to go on top of all the other crap he'd had to deal with today. Had he really missed his date with Penny or was it just his imagination filling in the gaps on the dream plane.

Still, he asked of his befuddled brain, was it even the same day that he dropped his body through a hole in the floor and let a whole three story building then fall on top of him, or was that just too much detail to process?

And so Sam came back to the world of the living with the usual relay of questions on his lips of why's and what's.

The 'what' revealed itself as he opened his reluctant eyes to recognise the faint glow that bathed the ghostly form of the child as it hovered in front of him. He grunted out his surprise, his eyes squinting in the poor light, as David looked disturbingly down at him.

Remembering why he had passed out instinctively Sam's hand went to his left shoulder and was shocked to find the wound had stopped bleeding and felt cold to the touch. With a questioning nod to the spectre he asked. "You do this?"

David nodded back, his face ticked nervously and then in the blink of an eye his form flickered, dissolved to reappear so close to Sam's face the air from his mouth came out in cold puffs.

Sam flinched, unnerved by the dead dark eyes shining purposely at him but soon managed to find his voice again. "I…err thanks, I would have bled out." He fingered the closing wound and gave the ghost a small dimpled smile. "You kinda saved my sorry butt. Thanks, David."

At hearing his name the young ghost drew back slightly studying the older boy in front of him with a careful air, his voice suddenly sounding shrill and sharp. "You have to get up. You have to come with me - now."

"Why?" asked Sam. It was a set response, his need to questions everything so ingrained that no matter how his dad had tried to beat out of him it was now automatic.

David shook his head at the question, a worryingly look stretched across his gaunt features. "No, you have to come with me."

Slowly straightening his tired body to a more comfortable sitting position, he had to admit to be a little unnerved by the ghost's jerky reactions and commands. Finding his voice he asked again. "Why do you want me to go with you? Where will we go?"

"Away from the fire," hissed David. "It's getting closer."

/---------------------------------------------------------\

**T.B.C.**

_Ps. I'm already working on chapter 6 and fingers x'd will post it soon! _


	6. Chapter 6

**Again mega thanks for all the really kind comments & and reviews. I will really try and get back to each person who left a review just to say my thanks because in the real universe I am really a 'Reader' (this writing phase is something new) and it is a really weird but an exhilarating kick to get actual reviews!**

_**P.S. I would have posted sooner but the site has been playing silly bugers when ever I tried to login!**_

**/-----------------------------------------------------------------------/**

**The effects of gravity.**

Chapter 6 - It all comes tumbling down. 

For the longest moment the breath hitched in his throat to be then expelled as a nervous laugh as his mind tried to muddle through the absurdity of it all.

A fire. Here. Now. Oh Great!

It had to be joke because seriously he didn't think anything else could go wrong today especially something ridiculous like a freaking fire. Hell. No.

Sam half expected to Dean to jump out of the shadows with a stupid grin plastered across his face yelling. "Gotcha!"

After a few seconds when his brother hadn't materialised he knew that the only company he had was a small frightened ghost child who was giving him a quizzical look as he continued to let out a short nervous laugh of disbelief.

He swallowed the next nervous giggle as the ghost knelt closer to him blowing a stream of cold air on his face as he whispered a warning. "It's getting too close…, you have to get up."

Sam nodded, letting the fear roll across him and galvanise him back into action.

With a tight groan he picked up his torch that had rolled to his side and tucked it into his waist band, then proceeded to pull himself onto his knees before forcing himself upright, forgetting just for a moment that his body's catalogue of hurts actually existed.

On standing he had to brace himself, wrapping his good arm around a skewered beam for support, to wait out the dizzy spell that accompanied him on standing. After a few seconds it started to dissipate and he was able to draw deeper breaths, putting on the back burner any acknowledgement of pain. That could be dealt with later.

"David" asked Sam curiously, "How do you know about the fire? Where is it coming from?"

"I can see it, it is so bright in the dark. It's eating everything it touches. It will get to you in double lickety quick speed if you insist on just stand there asking me silly questions."

Sam couldn't but smile at the unexpected petulance in the little ghost's voice, but he had to know what had happened to his brother so persisted with his questions. "No David, please listen. If you can see the fire can you also see my brother? Is he trapped in here too?"

Seemingly surprised by the question David looked up at the older boy with a poignant gaze on his face, "Your daddy run off with him. Away, out of the house. Don't you remember he left you behind just like my sister Katie did with me."

Nodding his head Sam fought back the sting of tears that came unbidden to burn his eyes, but at least he now knew that Dean was safe and had to be all right if dad had him. But it still left a bittersweet taste in the back of his throat all the same.

"Come on, come with me now. Or do you want to get eaten up?" hissed David, his eyes too dark and to large in his small pinched face.

With a shaky sigh Sam expelled the breath that had squeezed tight around his heart and hearing the added urgency in David's small voice shook away the last foggy cobwebs from his mind.

The ghost wavered and flickered across to the west of the cellar and Sam lurched after him, wanting to tell him to slow down but the heat coming from behind him didn't give him any other option but to chase after the retreating shadow.

/----------------------------------------------------------/

Chief Braddock wasn't a happy man. The unexpected explosion of brick and timber that had ignited underground had almost seriously hurt two of his men. It was sheer luck that they had been closer to the edge of the building and not standing anywhere near the area where the boy had fallen or they would never have stood a chance of getting out.

Wearily he wiped a large hand across his mouth, exhaling his relief that at least his men were going to be okay. This was one bitch of a job, he realised, that he really wanted done and over with.

Since the quake at some point a fire had taken hold in the bowels of the house and it now was eating its way outwards, licking scarlet flames into the air in the dwindling daylight.

The fire had had plenty to feed on and its flames were quickly fanning upwards in tall punches all around the simmering ruins.

With a curse Braddock knew that the festering beast was starting to roar into full life and would take all of his manpower to get it under control and with quick decisive orders to his men they started to run a pump line to the nearby lake.

All thoughts of rescuing the kid below had instantly been abandoned. His fate had already been decided long ago by the underground fire - of that he had no doubt.

With a drained sigh Braddock knew that the poor kid never stood a chance, but as he heard the raw scream behind him, saw the mad dash of his brother towards the flames only to be kept back in a tight bear hug by his too silent father, he knew that was the last thing his family wanted to hear.

Hell if that was his son down there right now he knew that he wouldn't want to know the awful truth of things. The boy was gone and with a fire that fierce taking hold there might not even be a body to recover.

Chief Braddock's eyes locked with the older Winchester and he shook his head offering of an apology that nothing more could be done. For the briefest of seconds he saw the recognition in the man's eyes as pain twitched across his face, rippled through his body and he hugged his oldest boy even tighter.

Even in the chaos and noise of the fire Braddock could hear John Winchester's muttered words as they drifted back to him on the wind. "I'm sorry son. I'm sorry son. I'm sorry son."

A litany of words repeated over and over as he rocked his oldest son in his arms staring bleakly at the flames consuming all within the house.

/----------------------------------------------------/

David's flickering form offered up a feint illumination so that Sam could follow after him, but he still used the torch to light up the uneven path ahead not wishing to take anymore unscheduled falls today if he could.

They weaved westward between the pillars of wood and metal that skewered the vast room until they reached an open doorway, the wooden door lying on the ground torn from its hinges.

Sam's feet slid awkwardly over the wooden frame as he ducked into the next chamber but he managed to stay upright. He felt short of breath, his chest burnt with the exercise and his lungs protested the lack of air, but he still continued on determined not to lose sight of his only guide to safety.

He swung his light curiously around his new surroundings and was surprised to see large crates and wooden barrels scattered in disarray across the floor. Some had broken open in the quake and the smell of liquor and other strong scents made Sam's eyes water.

He fingered his head tiredly, his fingers massaging back the monster of a headache threatening to return triggered in part by the strange odours in the air. "Huh David," he managed to gasp out, "What is this place? What's all this stuff doing here?"

"I don't know," answered the ghost truthfully. "Miss Charlotte has a lot of these packages and crates stashed all over the place. There were a lot of parties and they used some of it for them I guess."

He paused and looked up fearfully at the tall boy, his voice a mere whisper. "There are other crates in more rooms back there with allsorts of stuff, some with guns and money in them and…"

"…and that evil little bitch Miss Charlotte was really only a dirty little bootlegger! This place is just full of rotten little secrets isn't it?" Whispered Sam tiredly in return.

He quickly calculated with the maze of connections and rooms littering the vast underground area under the house there was more than sufficient fuel to keep the fire burning for a long time yet. Yep, alcohol and gunpowder would do it every time.

Now he felt truly a prickle of fear run up his spine. "Come on David, where do we go next?"

He really didn't want to be around when the house went boom.

/------------------------------------------------------------/

Dean couldn't tear his gaze away from the scene, watching as his last hope died at saving his brother disappear as the roar of the flames exploded upwards. The whistles of spent cartridges and underground explosions peppered the air as the fire found new sources to keep it going.

He could hear his dad muttering against the top of the crown of his head an ongoing apology but it still didn't make any sense.

Why was his dad was just standing there watching it all burn down taking his brother with it?

Hadn't his dad reached into the flames before and pulled Sam out of its destructive touch in Lawrence?

Hadn't he placed Sam in his arms safely then, so why couldn't he have done the same this time round?

"Why dad? Why?" he asked, determining to make some sense of the questions screaming in his head as his heart continued to deny that his Sam was gone.

But the only response he got was John Winchester's ongoing mantra of "I'm sorry son", and it just wasn't enough as his world edged from grey to black.

The last thought Dean could focus on was, 'Which son are you sorry for dad?' before his mind and body finally collapsed and he fell unconscious against his father's tight grip.

John Winchester would have cried there and then as his oldest passed out. From relief if anything that he did not have to hear the grief and accusation on his oldest son's lips, but in truth he had no more tears to shed.

All his false hope that he carried around for Dean's sake had evaporated the moment he had glimpsed the first lick of gold and orange flicker up from the ground.

Instantly he knew the source of the fire.

After all he could clearly remember setting it when he salted and set alight that bitch's mortal remains. He just hadn't expected it to take over like it had. Taking his youngest son in the process.

As weary as he was, as much as his 16 year old body wanted nothing more than to sit back down and go to sleep, the hardwiring in his brain overrode those needs with the instinct for survival.

He had to keep going and as long as David was moving so was he.

As he kept his physical pains in check his mind was still doing emotional somersaults and as he staggered on he kept remembering this last conversation with Dean before his fall. At that memory he felt a blush of guilt at how his brother had guessed that something was going on with him and a girl.

And so his thoughts meandered as his subconscious battled it out with the physical.

------------------------------------

_Penny. God, sometime he just wished that he could just sit down with Dean and just tell him stuff like brothers should. Stuff like how Penny just tied up his stomach in knots every time he saw her. Or how she would just sit and listen to him talking and then all of a suddenly grab him to give him the most delicious kisses ever. And then all need for talking was gone. _

_He really had wanted to tell him all about her but was too afraid to leave himself exposed to the usual ridicule and sharp tongued put downs of his older brother when he dared show any vulnerability. It was easier to sneak around, under their sharp words, than lose something special that he was enjoying with her._

_Their father's training had certainly left its mark on them that's for sure. Show no weakness or they'd go for the jugular every time._

_Worst though is that he could no longer speak to Dean about what really bothered him, because god yes he really hated hunting now. But what was the point in telling this to Dean as he just lived and breathed for the hunt it seemed. _

_Ever since he had graduated Dean had slowly drifted more and more into the world of hunting till it seemed to have consumed him totally. And that frightened him more than he was willing to admit._

_At times he couldn't bear to watch his brother as he prepared for a hunt as he became so focused that he didn't see anything except than what his father needed, what his father demanded. And not once did he ever ask the question 'why'?_

_Had he been such a bad son and brother to keep asking 'Why?' His dad had certainly thought so. As for Dean…well he really didn't want that added disappointment too. He had already disappointed them too much he feared. _

_Was it the reason his dad had left without him? _

_David had seen it, spoken the words he kept locked away. _

_Dad had left him behind without even a word as he run off to take his best son to safety. _

/-------------------------------------------------/

His meandering thoughts came to an abrupt halt as a loud keening scream filled the air followed by what sounded like a muffled explosion hopefully too far away to be of an immediate threat.

Yet.

Still he guessed the fire was growing in size doing more damage faster than all the wiles and damnations of Miss Charlotte's ghost had ever done.

The groans of the existing walls and ceilings above him called out 'run' and the air had decidedly warmed up to an uncomfortable degree and now distinctly the screams of the fire could be heard uncomfortably in the distance.

Heart in mouth Sam wanted to stop, cling to the hope that his brother would find him, take him away from this and tell him that he would be okay. He really needed Dean.

As if reading his thoughts David had stopped, wavered in front a doorway and slowly dissolved through it, his voice lingering in an eerie whisper as he disappeared. "Hurry Sam, it's getting nearer."

Shaking of his self doubts Sam tucked his torch under his left armpit and reached the handle with his good hand to pull the door too. A grunt of surprise escaped as the door failed to open and remained firmly closed.

"Shit" was all Sam could get out realising that the door must be locked. Unlike a ghost he just wasn't going to dissolve through it to the other side.

He had to find a way of opening it - sooner rather than later he determined, fighting back the overwhelming need to panic as the sounds of another explosion not too far away to offer him any comfort ripped through the air.

What he needed was the key and fear driven he suddenly found enough breath to holler out loud, "David. The doors locked. It won't open…."

He waited for a second or two and then pounded his fist on the door in frustration when the ghost did not return. "David…?"

**T.B.C.**

_/------------------------------------------------------------/_

_Too cruel or what? Poor Sammy really needs a lucky break, a four-leaf clover, a heavenly intervention, or his own little personal lephrechaun to get him out of all these little jams he keeps getting himself into! _

_Let me know what you think. Roz._


	7. Chapter 7

**Again mega thanks for all the kind reviews. I loved them all, one and all. Roz.**

Usual disclaimers apply.

**_P.s_** _Sorry for the late update but the site has been a little bit hinkey all week! And yes all mistakes, spelling, grammatical and just downright bad are mine. All mine._

The effects of gravity 

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**Chapter7 - Sammy gets a little pissed!**

Fighting back his fear and annoyance Sam banged his aching fist once more against the door before the cold hard pit of anger hit his stomach. Why had he trusted a frigging spook? Just how stupid could he be at times?

For the briefest of moments he could hear his brother's deep chuckle of disgust behind him. He could also imagine how his dad would have a field day with this major screw up. Oh yes, this one was defiantly 'major dumb ass moment number 58' on his ever-growing lists of what makes him such a piss poor hunter he chided himself.

It would have been funny except for the fact that 'going up in flames' scenario was still playing itself out behind him, with the distinct possibility of Sam Winchester al la flambé being added to the menu in the very near future.

Oh, yes he told himself bitterly. 'Ha, Fucking, Ha, indeed.'

Just where had his head been at putting his faith in a ghost he asked himself furiously. 'Oh yeah', he recalled bitterly, 'slightly the poorer for landing on it earlier that day, that's what.'

He must still be hovering nearer to stupidity than lucidity he reckoned as he struggled for breath. The air was growing thicker, more poisonous and worryingly hotter and still the damned door wouldn't budge to allow him any offer of escape.

"Fuck you David," he screamed out hoarsely, more in annoyance at his failure to trust something so unnaturally wrong than anything else.

Already he could feel the familiar trickle of warmth starting down his shoulder once more, and knew that whatever fix David had done to the wound had worn off. He had few choices left to him he acknowledged, because he was again either going to bleed to death or if that was too slow burn to death instead, because without David to lead him away from the fire he really didn't stand a chance.

Around him he could sense the air being slowly drawn away from his surroundings, sucked away by the all consuming fire rolling towards him, coming to rapidly his way to possibly evade now.

This new difficulty didn't frighten him as much as it should, because tiredly he reasoned that suffocation might be the more preferable option to die off. It surely was the quickest alternative, before the hot fingers of flames dared touched his skin.

As the world grew darker and more difficult to navigate with conscious thought he pondered why it was so suddenly so hard to think. Just why couldn't he see a way out of this? Dean would, of that he was sure. He always came up with an escape plan to make Houdini proud whenever they got their sorry butts into a sticky situation. And this whole day was turning out to be one humdinger of a stink fest.

"Hey Dean. This is whole gig is getting stickier and stickier and I could do with one of your smart ass plans right about now big brother!" He whispered it out aloud, then gave a wry shrug when there was no reply, all too aware that he was no Houdini and that Dean was well and truly out for the count on this one.

"You're on your own idiot and look at what one godawful mess you've gotten yourself into. Your so stupid!" he told himself. Defeat seemed easier to acknowledge, because right now for all his accelerated learning classes, his superior intellect, his rocket high I.Q. _he_ couldn't get passed a simple locked door.

Now the burden of playing 'Stupid Sam' weighed crushingly down on him and was too heavy to brush off.

_Stupid for falling on his head not his ass. Stupid for trusting a goddamn spook. Stupid thinking that his dad was capable of anything and everything only to learn at the most inappropriate time that he was not. Stupid because he was about to die and there was not a freaking thing he good about it._

Still hadn't dad, 'Mr He who must be obeyed' told him enough times just how obtuse he was at times, and now damn it dad might have been found out to be have been eternally right. Which was just plain wrong.

Oh yeah, he could imagine his father's cold expression right now watching him unable to open a simple door, with that all too glint of familiar disappointment in his dark eyes. Showing the inevitable disdain, that his youngest had managed to screw it all up yet again.

And as that smirk of familiarity burned in his back vision Sam rebelled again. His father's imagined projection more royally pissed him off a hundred times more than being abandoned by David. His voice strained, dark and throaty he growled. 'Fuck you too Dad,' and then he screamed louder wishing for earth and heaven to hear his call. "Fuck you all."

The curse words dying at on his tongue he swallowed down the tears, and instead let the pent up anger and frustration ripple physically through him. Energy mutated and his fingers gripping so tightly on the door handle that they throbbed.

All his anger became focused, bitter and hot, racing from his heart, through his battered body, down the length of his arm and into his hand. With a scream of inarticulate rage, viscous fury, growing for the last sixteen years of his screwed up life, flowed out of him and he tugged one last time on the frozen handle.

And then the impossible seemed to happen. The lock buckled, metal screamed and sheered, the handle clicked down way too fast and the heavy door flew open, propelling Sam backwards to land on his butt with a disbelieving grunt.

Not quite understanding what had just happened Sam shook his head, blinking quickly to stare disoriented into the darkness beyond, his mouth open still in surprise.

"Huh," he voiced to himself in disbelief, recalling how the door seemed to just pop open because he needed it to. "Well, that was just plain frigging weird."

His mind tried to puzzle things through. The door was open where it had been firmly intransigently locked. Maybe David had come back and opened it for him he questioned, looking into the dark to see if the ghostly presence was standing there, waiting for him, but his familiar muted grey halo of light was missing.

Then again thought Sam, perhaps maybe the lock was just worn out and just needed an extra strong tug, because didn't he still have his throbbing fingers to attest to just how much power he had put behind that last final pull?

It was after all an old building, dank damp underground conditions. Maybe it was all just down to rusty metal. Fatigue maybe? Yep, that could do it. Must be it.

Or maybe, he offered up with a weary groan, maybe he was just going crazy and the noxious fumes steadily filling the air around him were starting to really get to him now.

Superman Sam would have to go back to the background of childish daydreams he scolded himself dispassionately, because judging just badly how his day was going so far he was no superhero readying to burst out of the rubble to fly up to the clean air of freedom. He knew this to be true because his body just kept reminding him just how mortal he was right now. All his major muscles screamed fatigue and his other hurts just refused to be sidelined.

Then all the 'maybes' thoughts that plagued him were put to one side as the scream of another explosion behind him startled him abruptly out of his wayward thoughts.

The concussive wave was to near for comfort, and rocked his senses alert to his immediate need to get to safety. He definitely was not up to being Superman at this point in time as his butt jitterbugged across the uneven ground as stone, mortar and wood played a merry dance of destruction.

An awful roar had proceeded the tremor and punched the air violently around him, making his scalp tingle, followed by the now too familiar feeling of his stomach wanting to finish the dance and join in with stomach bile and acid.

Call it a primeval instinct but an overwhelming fear drew him quickly back onto his feet quicker than his body liked but his brain was not allowing it the luxury of gaining the upper hand. It was taking control and pain could be sidelined for as long as necessary it had decided unilaterally. Time to go.

Licking his lips anxiously Sam Winchester knew that he was running out of time. 'Get your sorry butt through that door now Sam,' he demanded of himself. Adrenal worked its magic and he staggered upwards to ungainly stagger through the entrance way, all the while his right hand feeling instinctively for the handle on the other side.

As he slammed the heavy door shut behind him he gave a long shaky sigh of relief, having put another barrier, no matter how temporary, between him and the fire.

But for just how long he knew was down to a certain absentee ghost.

"David" he yelled out angrily, his ever depleting reserves making his voice sound edgy and desperate. "You'd better show your scrawny ass because if you don't I'm going to make the exorcism of Miss Charlotte seem like a frigging walk in the park before I'm finished with you."

It was the start of a threat that Sam didn't really know if he could finish. But he would try his best to achieve it, because damnit he was really starting to get just more than a little annoyed with this whole 'Stupid Sam Day' experience.

A little backstabbing mealy mouthed ghost on the serious end of a Winchester style whumping might just help in making him feeling a might better about today.

Because if truth told Sam Winchester was starting to get a smidge beyond the point of being just pissed off.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

"She's over there Ham," whispered Sally to the Sheriff softly. She had been on her shift for the last three hours and it had broken her heart to see Penny just sit there waiting for the boy. Now as it had grown dark and Penny still hadn't budged she did the only thing she knew, she had called her dad.

"Hey Pen, how you doing baby?" whispered Sheriff Carnock as he slowly sidled into the booth next her. He nodded over to Sally, his eyes lingering a nano-second on the coffee pot but she quickly got the message and soon appeared coffee mug in hand. He took a deep gulp gratefully.

Studying the hollow expression on his daughter's face Ham Carnock really dared to hope that whoever had thought it wise to play pitter-patter with her heart so glibly had left town already or so help him he would do something awful to the jerk. Something not pretty at all.

As if noticing her father's newly arrived presence Penny took a juddering breath, her dark blue eyes falling away from him, not wanting to show him the tears that she had been crying. "Daddy what are you doing here?"

"Well seems like you've been in need of some company for a while baby, and I know I'm a poor substitute so lets just go home and you and your momma can gas about it then. Okay?"

"No" snapped Penny evenly, her conviction standing suddenly true that her trust had not been misplaced. "No daddy, he said he would come and I believe him. I have to give him time. Another thirty minutes. Please daddy?"

"He doesn't deserver another thirty minutes of your time baby. Whoever this jerk is he surely is an asshole. Don't let him hurt you like this. He just isn't worth it."

There was an almost invisible twitch that crossed her face and her voice hiccupped in her throat. "Daddy no. He… no, you don't understand he wouldn't do this to me. Something has to have happened…?"

"Okay Penny want me tell me his name, (_so I can go beat the crap out of him down some dark alley that he can never dare ask out a girl again._). Fighting down his immediate need to do harm to this suddenly errant boyfriend he realised that he wanted to do right for the whole family. "What's his name honey?"

Taking a long breath Penny looked up at her father and felt a flood of support and confidence sweep over her. With him by her side she felt suddenly safer and surer. Daddy would always stop the pain. " His name is Sam, Sam Winchester."

The color drained so fast from Sheriff Carnock's that he felt momentarily dizzy and all he could hear his mind screaming was for the longest of seconds was, "Oh my god. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

The constant beeping was a comfort as the heart monitor reported back slow and steady. Tiredly he watched his son breathe, easy and shallow, looking impossibly peaceful and young in sleep that he wished for it to last for as long as possible.

The heartbreak that would come with his waking was something he didn't want to deal with right now he admitted to himself. Carefully he slipped his rough fingers around Dean's still hand and gripped it gently. He needed to feel him, to make sure that he wasn't going to slip away from him the way Sam had.

_Like Sammy had always threatened to do_.

A part of him really hated the child for doing this to him, to them, for daring to leave them too soon. They were just not ready for this. Not yet. Not today. Not ever.

Now all the links of the chain that kept them shackled together as family were gone, and John Winchester took a bitter long breath as he thought of his youngest. His worst fears that had burnt within him since that fateful fire 15 years ago had now been realised, and he was left alone with Dean to suffer the consequences.

Deep down he had always known that he would lose him one day, but not like this, not so completely.

Rubbing his hand over his face he tried to push back the feeling of guilt eating away at him. Sam had watched him leave with his brother without a word to him, letting the last link of their father and son connection break without any resistance it seemed.

Their one resisting factor, Dean, hadn't been able to intercede for them both and the silence had spoken volumes as he left him behind. Wondering forever why he had never had had the necessary words or skills to talk to his youngest.

As he held Dean's hand cold fear touched his waking thoughts. On just how easy it would be to pull out to his gun and shoot his brains out through the back of skull lingered dangerously in his thoughts. The not too hard pull on the trigger would stop all this hurt, this unbearable pain and admonishment tearing into what was left of his soul.

The bullet would have been met many times today, if not for the fact Dean would need him to stay for a while longer. Yes Dean would need him till the anger and hatred of losing his brother consumed them all.

Their collective fear of losing the most precious thing in their seriously warped lives has always been Sammy. For too long he had been their focus, their reason to stay walking the thin line of normal. They had never been able to afford to lose him. And now he has slipped from their safety net, from his grip, all to firmly, all to finally.

But honesty wears many faces and in his broken withered heart John Winchester knew that he had been losing Sam all his young life. It was just that he had never once stopped the roller-coaster ride that he had placed them all on to disaster to dare to ask when this might happen. Or reason why.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

_The very first time he lost a part of Sam was when he placed him in Dean's arms that same fateful night when Mary was ripped from him. Dean never gave him back after that sorrowful night, his protective hold over his sibling to strong to want to usurp. His need was greater than his, and who was he to break such a hold?_

_From then on he allowed whole chunks of the boy be ripped away from him, simply allowing a too young Dean to take over that part of the young child's life that should have been only his to give - the role of a father._

_So Time had sped on, the hunts growing more urgent more important, and somewhere along the line he never saw the need to reclaim him back because Dean had him and kept him guided, kept him safe. Who else was there better to keep their most loved one from the darkness but him? _

_But the bare honest truth is that he gave Sam away to Dean because it hurt too damn much to hold him close, at times sensing a part of Mary that lived so vividly within him, so brightly, it burned to see him other than a catalyst of pain. His innocence hurt him, stabbed at his heart too many times, so that it had become easier to block him out. Pass him over. Block him out. _

_So moment by careless moment he had let him slip away. Faint heartedly he had perhaps had tried to recognise the child's normal milestones like he and Mary had done with their oldest, but inside it was all a fake sham because to do 'normal' was to remind him of her and to what he had lost. _

_Instead Sam's first tooth, his first word, his first step were all for Dean to witness, and harvest in all their well earned glory. The little chubby smiling baby grew up around his brother, surrounded by circles of salt, silver bullets, sharp knives, books of lore and magic amulets, to emerge a wilful headstrong boy of purpose, all at an odds with his father's own. _

_The years had toughened them all but still Sam had remained frighteningly gentle, soft and malleable under words of hurt and anger. Words which he would use to control and bully his youngest son to following him. But what other words could he use that the boy would follow now, or would understand?_

'_Sir, yes, Sir, 'was what he demanded, not the 'What & Why?' seemingly permanently on the child's lips. For the last few years he had tried to rule him with fear, the promise of a threat, but damnit the boy had learnt to fight the fear and threats. Ignore all but his own voice. _

_Each time he pushed against him his will his heart had cried, out 'Stop, your losing him, he's slipping away from you. You're a fool John Winchester, a bloody fool. Stop it, talk to him. Hold him tight, don't let him go.' _

_His heart may have been screaming with his need but his mind would not offer up control. Not till today, when everything stopped, when anything left whole in their lives shattered as finally time and gravity finished the job today. _

_And he knew if asked he would have given his heart and soul to have saved him. To have saved them all._

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

"I'm sorry Dean, I'm sorry I lost him for you, he was always yours - never mine." he confessed softly, stroking back a tuft of hair standing up oddly on his son's head.

His voice sounded odd to his own ears, as if drowning in unshed tears. "I keep losing everything you love son. Mary, now Sam…and I know I've let you down son but please don't hate me, please don't hate me."

Don't slip away from me the way Sammy did from me. Please stay with me.

There was a rustle of stiff cotton behind him and he twisted round to see the white coated physician whom he had first met in the ER room standing at the foot of the bed, going over his son's chart with a quick eye. With a satisfied nod he quickly marked the chart and then turned his full attention on the father.

"Mr Winchester, good news. All the scans were unremarkable. Your son does have indeed have a nasty concussion, but at least there are no skull fractures or sub dermal bleeding to worry about."

With a gravely voice John managed to ask. "When can he come home?"

"Well, we had to sedate him pretty heavily on arrival. Not normally something we would do with a head injury but seeing that he had decked out cold one of my junior doctors and punched a whole in the wall with his bare fist on waking unfortunately that was the only option left to us at the time."

On seeing the scowl flit across the older man's features, he quickly added. "Well he may be out for a few hours with the heavy sedation and all, and may need close monitoring for the next 24 hours, so we will see how he is doing in the morning."

He waited for some sort of response but John Winchester had slipped his attention back to his son, holding firmly still his hand in a grip of comfort.

Dr Waters nodded silently his understanding at the man's shutdown, having garnered the full story behind his latest patient's admission from the attending paramedics, to allow the father the time to grieve.

Slipping away, he closed the door behind him and let out a relieved sigh of thanks. Dealing with the bereaved had never been one of his strong points. At times being a physician well and truly sucked.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Against the muffled groans of the fire behind the door he cocked his head to listen tentatively for a response from the ghost child. Awkwardly he swung his torch around, the beam picking out bits of furniture, old and broken, and then there he was. Grey, indistinct, with no bulk to form, huddled in the far corner of the room, with his back turned away from the touch of the light.

Sam's eyes widened in surprise and confusion at seeing the small spirit look so utterly broken. The anger within dissipated instantly at seeing the child hunched over crying hollowly, his hitched sobs so soft they were barely audible.

Sam flinched at the sound, recalling a time when he had been that child's age and had sat alone in the dark doing the same thing. The pain of those dark memories pinged at his heart and he called out softly. "David, why are you crying?"

David turned his head round to meet Sam's concerned gaze and turned black bruised eyes up to the older boy as he whispered sadly. "Look at what's become of me Sam. Look what she did…"

Sam's eyes travelled past the hunched form and the light of his torch followed. He winced at seeing for the first time the tiny skeletal remains, aged and brittle, littering the ground but they were still clearly recognisable as human and that of a small child.

They marked clearly all that was left of the mortal side of David, pathetic in the viewing at offering up only the weak residue that was left.

Swallowing back the bile he could see that the child had at some point been tethered to a metal ring on the floor, a cold chain still linked around what was left of his anklebone. What was worse he realised he had been left imprisoned on purpose, with the door firmly locked behind, left to starve wretchedly alone in the dark bowels of this hateful house.

All Sam could think as he eyed the ruins of the ghost's human form was that his death must have been to slow, to long, to offer him any real chance of peace whilst he remained still tied to this damn house.

They both needed an escape. As weak as he was tears rushed unbidden from the older boys eyes and if could have drawn the tiny figure into the warmth of his embrace to offer any comfort he would have. The only consolation he could offer were words and they felt hollow in his throat. "Oh god, they had no right to do this to you. I'm so sorry. David."

Bright dreadful dead eyes looked back up him, and David seemed to shudder, dissolve then reappear immediately at his side with tears suddenly froze on his cheeks.

"I hate them Sam, I hate them all. I really do." He voiced with a passion long forgotten, as he felt the once forgotten pull of human emotions fall across his cold frame. "I hate her, and I hate Katie. Why did she leave me Sam? Why didn't she come back for me?"

Struggling with his own feelings of abandonment Sam merely reached out and gently squeezed the now corporeal cold shoulder of the ghost, ignoring the frost burning his fingers. "There's too many why's David. Lets get out of the hell out of here first then we might be able to find you some answers."

The connection made both boys studied each other for the longest second till Sam was forced to loosen his grip and blow some warmth back on to his fingers. He could ill afford to lose the feeling in his only working hand and he threw a rueful smile down on the small child. "I don't have much time left David. So if you don't want me to become toast in our little private version of hell, please tell me you have a way out of here?"

David twisted his sallow face up to the brightness of Sam's gaze and nodded, a smile suddenly stretching his taut features.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Aaron Jennings picked up his phone message and his heart lurched. Young Sammy was gone and as he listened to the chill in John's voice he knew that if he didn't do something damn fast what was left of the Winchester family might soon follow.

Realising that he was only a few hours drive away he picked up his car keys with a shaking hand and started on his journey to Farnborough, praying all the way that when he got there he might be able to salvage something from this tragedy.

Tears fell as he drove. He had loved that boy dearly. He loved him too much to think of him gone and dreaded having to see the confirmation of his loss on John Winchester's broken face. Jesus H Christ Sammy was gone. This was not meant to happen.

And then it struck him like a vicious kick to his gut. Dean! Oh god - Dean. What would become of him without his brother to hold him steady?What would be there now to keep him safe and anchored? How soon would they lose him next?

The tears stopped and his foot pushed the gas pedal harder till he sped along in the coming darkness at a speed faster than reckless.

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Dean Winchester woke with an urgency, with a fear so solidly seated in his mind that his brother's name was torn from his lips so loudly that John Winchester was jerked immediately from his light sleep. The moment that he had been dreading now had to met, but as he locked eyes with his oldest but all he could see was a dark fury that frightened him.

It was more than grief that tore his son apart. It was pure hate.

TBC

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_**Sorry for the late update. Rest assured fingers already busy on the next chapter! **_


	8. Chapter 8

The effects of Gravity 

_Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter done! It is a little Sam light but the next chapter will be more than Sam & Dean centric AND with a promised end in sight! Again forget any mistakes, grammar, spelling or just down right hinkey moments or poor plotting! Luvved all your wonderful reviews, which have spoiled me something rotten. _

_Roz._

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**Chapter 8 – Jennings vs Winchester**

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For a man reaching his mid fifties Aaron Jennings felt suddenly too bloody old. Bullied by life's unfair game to want to keep the battle equal anymore. If he could the find the equivalent of a supernatural smart bomb to strike and kill all those evil sons of bitches that kept on taking all the good from his life he would have sold his soul to the highest bidder to push the button without any hesitation.

And if that pact had kept Sam Winchester safe, had kept him alive, it would have been worth the cost.

With a too heavy heart he had a pulled to a stop outside of the hospital and steeled himself for the task ahead. With hooded grey eyes he looked wearily at the building in front of him. It felt all too familiar, the late setting, the bright lit façade of the building's frontage and the grief that he knew he would meet on going in there.

God, how he wished he wasn't here because of Sammy. That kid had stolen into his heart despite his best efforts and now to know that he was gone was too almost too much to think on. It was just not right. Not right at all.

_Damn John Winchester. Why couldn't he have just listened to me? Now it was all too late_. _And just like I lost my boys John has dared to do the same with his own. Why couldn't he see? Why?_

As he hesitated outside the hospital entrance he chewed on his bottom lip and let out a small resigned sigh before starting on the short walk into the main reception. The place was thankfully quiet, the hustle and bustle of the day had subsided to a few scattering of people muddling through on towards the twilight shift.

Not known for his patience he coughed politely by the main desk, then coughed out decidedly more loudly with a harder edge of irritation as he was pointedly ignored.

What he didn't appreciate was that the pinched face receptionist of this decidedly unbusy front desk was 'too busy' in Googling her latest obsession to acknowledge him and his long finger curled dangerously over the desk top. His voice shot splinters at her as he barked sarcastically. "If you don't mind leaving Kurt Angle on steroids alone for a moment I need your attention!"

With a knowing sigh the woman clicked off the screen, caught in the act, but paid too little to really care and swivelled around in her chair. "Welcome to Mercy Hospital…How can I help you, Sir, Oh…errh!

He could see the chewed up gum in her mouth as she stopped suddenly dead, her eyes popping slightly at the sight of him. God knew that he was no longer pretty in any sense of the word, time had beaten itself across him too physically and forcefully to ignore.

Truthfully be told it just irritated the hell out of him when idiots like her just sat their slack jawed and bog-eyed at him like that. And as he took in her all to predicable reaction the thought of reaching out and smacking her over the back of her stupid head to let the gum spit out was almost too tempting. Almost.

Standing 6ft 6in in his bare feet, and with a shock of grey peppered hair that fell like a lions mane to the bridge of his shoulders Aaron Jennings might once have been described as roguishly debonair, if but the fact that his left brow bore a deep furrowing scar, and the top of his left lip bore the same deep mark. The pretty young boy that he had once been had turned into something blunted and withered, hurt long ago and altered in the process.

He was no longer anything akin to Mr Joe Ordinary and hadn't been for the longest of time. And so he met the girl's startled stare with a small smirk of his own, and with a dark twinge to his pale eyes his deep baritone voice demanded. "I'm Professor Jennings. I'm here to see the Winchester boy. Where is he?"

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

David smiled knowingly up at Sam. A way out? Of course he knew of a way out. Hadn't he had spent the last 60 odd years of his miserable existence exploring this underground world?

At first it had been fun to play games within the shadows and learn all the secrets it contained. But games can last only so long and then the boring drudgery of being spirit bound kept him on an endless loop of a circuit going from corner to corner of the cellars acreage so that eventually it imprinted itself like a map on his mind. So of course he knew of a safe passage for his new found friend.

Offering up a wide smile to the older boy he shyly pointed to the other exit of the room and the bones that littered the floor seemed to be instantly forgotten. It would be fun to take Sam with him he realised. He was no longer alone and they now had a little adventure of their own to be playing with. Just like how he and Katie used to play together before she left him.

Unlike the door shut firmly behind Sam the exit that David had pointed to had buckled and spilt open so that the door was held at an odd angle on its hinges held in place by just a few rusty nails. His voice a cold excited whisper David looked eagerly up at Sam. "I can take you out that way. Come on Sam, just follow me."

A thin sheen of perspiration betrayed Sam's weakening state but he nodded grimly at the retreating ghost and told himself determinedly, ignoring the shake of his hand as he raised his torch to light the way ahead. 'Okay, Sam here we go again. Just don't screw things up and keep the hell up."

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

John reached out for his son, to calm him down before he brought the nursing staff into his room. The last thing he needed was their input right now. "Dean, listen son. Listen." He shook his son's shoulder in a fierce grip. "Sam's gone. There's nothing, nothing either of us could have done. You have to understand. He's gone."

"Bastard," choked back Dean, struggling to free himself from his father's touch. "Don't you fucking say that. My brother is not gone. He can't be…"

As Jennings opened the door unannounced the shock wave of emotion hit him and he wanted to slam the door shut and run back to his car. 'Close the door A.J. Get the hell away now,' his heart screamed at him. This was going to hurt too much.

Why couldn't it have been Jim Murphy of even that insolent mouthed young pup Caleb standing here? Both of them would be better equipped to deal with this, because he just didn't know whether he could keep his temper in check and not keep his hands from strangling John Winchester when he saw him.

The urge to beat some sense into his thick skull was at times overpowering, and if he had given into his instincts last summer then maybe none of this would have happened. Instead he had let him take Sam back. Back to this fucking mess.

Sourly he realised that he should have fought harder for the boy, and now it was all too late. So despite his hearts warning to turn and leave his head won the battle and he pushed the door open fully.

Seeing Dean struggle under his father's tight grip Aaron's face went cold. "John," he snapped out harshly. "What the hell's going on here?"

Stunned at hearing that deep resonant voice behind him John turned and his face fell open, his eyes hollow and dark. "A.J. you came!"

Jennings couldn't but help wince at how brittle he sounded. There was a silent plea in his eyes as he looked at the older man. '_Please help me.' _Any thoughts of strangling the man immediately disappeared and he answered gently. "Of course I came Johnny. Where else would I be at a time like this?"

Dean snarled viciously at his placating word, sitting up fully tearing angrily at the I.V. line stuck in the front of his hand, his voice a threat "Get the lost old man. Better still scuttle back to Berkley and let me find my brother without you two fucking idiots getting in my way."

John had turned back to his son, hands struggling to keep Dean from doing more damage. "A.J he won't listen to me. He's got to understand that Sam is…."

He got no further as his son enraged by his words twisted out of his grip and for all his worth punched upwards with a fist connecting with his father's cheek with a sick thud.

Stunned John stepped backwards, and Aaron stepped forwards.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The air was cooler, becoming somewhat easier to breathe, and his tired lungs were grateful for the break. Sam worked his ways forwards at a slow pace, thankful that this time David kept within view so that he was able to follow.

Soon the labyrinth of dark rooms and passage ways, torn up by the quake, turned into a messy jumble in his mind, and he just stumbled passed objects and contents with out interest, to damned tired to register anything other than his need to get to safety.

All he knew was that he had to keep foot following foot ignoring his body's discomfort,. because every step forwards was taking him further away from the inferno behind him and a step nearer to finding his brother.

Then abruptly as the trek had started it ended as David drew to a stop, his grey form flickering visibly as they seemed to have reached a dead end. Sam swallowed back the bile burning his throat at this latest development.

Confused he waved his torch around looking for another exit but could only see a blanket of unending walls. "David, why have we stopped here?"

The ghost giggled and Sam's heart sank. Was this all just a game to the small child? Didn't he realised this was real life and death to him? "David, please. I have to get out of here. There's no time for games."

Cold eyes glittered up at him in the darkness, a small pout on his lips. "I said I would get you out Sam. Didn't I? Come on you have to go under now."

As if to offer further illumination to his foggy brain a bony finger stabbed down to the ground by Sam's feet so that his eyes noticed for the first time a wooden hatchway bolted to the ground.

"That's the way out." sniffed David before slipping through it and disappearing from view. "Follow me!" came his muffled taunt.

Sam's young face broke open into a wide grin of relief, suddenly understanding where the ghost had taken to him. If he could have reached out through the dimensions and hugged the dead child too him he would have. Freezer burn or not.

Under his feet stood an exit. David had led him to an honest to goodness escape, a hatchway that he guessed must lead to a smugglers tunnel, no doubt built for the bringing in of Miss Charlottes illicit contraband.

Jumbled thoughts and anxieties vanished and clarity hit home while a soft tired laugh escaped, relief flooding through him that at long last the nightmare might soon be coming to an end.

"Thank you," he offered up to anyone or anything that might have wanted to listen, because now at least he had a chance. For the first time since losing his battle with gravity Sam Winchester had a spark of hope, a flicker now in his heart that he might just still be able beat the odds. God, it would be so good to see his brother again and even his constant bitching and ribbing would be welcome just about now he realised.

Smart mouthed, gobby Dean's voice was better than this unnatural silence of his own fading thoughts he realised.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Dean!" growled out Jennings, grabbing his wrists before he could fling out another punch and pinned the younger man effectively back down on the bed with the momentum and weight of his body. "Stop."

It terrified him to see just how fast the disintegration of what was left of the Winchester family was taking place. Both Winchesters were standing at the edge of the abyss, readying to fall eagerly into it and let the grief destroy them both utterly. Sam might be too hard a loss for anyone of them to be saved from.

'Damn it,' he realised again he really should have left it to Jim to deal with this one as he looked into the darkening green eyes of an inconsolable Dean. His ability to be other than just a sponge to soak up the hurt would be of no help here, aware that he just didn't have the patented halo that Jim wore to forgive and forget so easily.

Right now he really wanted to hurt something, anyone, anything so badly just to numb out this re-emerging pain. His own boys lost so many years ago bit deep again, just as Sammy's loss so new drew fresh blood.

And beyond his feelings for Sammy there was Dean. Closed, shut off, permanently damaged Dean.

John had screwed up his oldest son royally and the boy pinned beneath his hands was suffering the effects. Light green eyes were now blackened with rage and agitation so that he physically shook under his hands, his hatred of being manhandled made visible by the ugly sneer on his too handsome face.

"Get your fucking hands of me Jennings. Ya hear me? Get the fuck off me."

"Not till you calm down boy." insisted the older man, adding a warning. "Do you want them to come in and sedate you with something stronger?"

At hearings Jennings threat Dean seemed to still and his once unfocused eyes suddenly latched onto him with a worrying pleading quality that shook his soul.

Dean Winchester never ever fucking begged, but the small voice suddenly audible shook his resolve. "Please A.J. I've got to get out of here. It's all fucked up, and dad is wrong about Sam. He has to be…"

Dean's voice had hitched in his throat, remembering how his brother had looked up at him certain that he would be there for him. "I promised him that he would be okay. I have to go back for him."

John's broken voice could be heard softly in the background, pleading with his son to listen to reason. "Oh god Dean don't do this to yourself. I lost him for you. I failed him. Me - not you."

For a moment Jennings thought that the boy would lash out again on hearing his father's confession but just as quick as the anger that had once flashed across his face it was lost allowing his face to reflect the anguish within and momentarily he looked frighteningly young, not at all like his usual cocksure self.

"He's not dead. I would _feel_ it." It was a confession, meant only for brother to brother and Jennings wanted to scream his understanding.

Under his grip he could feel Dean's body still trembling under his fingers, and then the tears finally came. Anger, denial, pain, all rippled through the youngster's body/

Jennings throat constricted under such loss and the power of speech deserted him as he pulled Dean into a bear-hug, his long arms wrapping themselves tightly round the young man's muscular frame. "It's okay laddie, it's okay. Let it out, just let it all out. I know, I know…"

He glanced a teary-eyed look over to John and could see the guilt flood over him that it was with him that his son was drawing comfort from and not his father. Aaron sighed, his heartbreaking for them all. '_I shouldn't be here. Not like this. This is so wrong John. So bloody wrong_.'

Later, after what had seemed the blanket of hours, but was in truth only minutes, it was with a long sigh of relief he acknowledged when Dean drifted back off to the slumber of sleep, the IV medication and concussion doing their worse yet again. Untangling himself from the now slumbering younger Winchester he managed to manoeuvre, after a few choice words, John Winchester down to the cafeteria.

They sat in the dimly lit area, drinking probably the worst coffee of their life, but none seemed to notice. Both were just grateful for the silence or the lack of questioning stares.

Jennings knew that his friend was coasting on automatic mode, the lines of fatigue and worry that had etched itself over his friend's face suddenly ageing him, but still he had to ask. "Are you absolutely sure that he couldn't have found a way out Johnny. Sam wouldn't have just given up with a fight. He would have…."

He didn't expect to see the once strong man before him crumble before him so lost beyond the relief of tears that thankfully his oldest boy was still capable of.

"You don't get it A.J. The whole building went, fell on top of him. I had to leave him to it. And he knew. God he knew. Didn't say a goddamn word. Just watched me take his brother away and…. "

Aaron's heart imploded at his words, finally understanding what the man had been driven to do. And then is heart imploded further just thinking on what Sam had had to endure with his dad's departure. "No, Johnny, no…"

John Winchester ignored Jennings soft rebuke, to focused on his need to confess, but Jennings was no Pastor Jim and John failed to notice the tightening of the older man's jaw as he unburdened himself. "I'd set the fire. Burnt the old witch's bones knowing that the boys would do the necessary. And they did A.J. They did, and were safe then, on their way out…then the fucking house decided to come down. None of this was meant to happen. None of it…."

"_You poor sad bastard'_ acknowledged Jennings to himself as he watched his friend wrap himself tighter in his grief. _"You fucked up and your sons have had to pay the cost. God John, why couldn't you just have left Sam with me'?_

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Spiders never scared him before, certainly not the way it would send Dean into a shivering wreck whenever one dared to come in contact with him. The fact that his brother would sooner squash under foot any offending arachnid that tried to slip by him had always made him laugh.

Big macho demon hunter extraordinaire Dean Winchester hated spiders. All sizes, all colours. Hated them with a vengeance.

And for the longest of time Sam had never understood why. But that all abruptly changed after he had managed to open the hatchway only to be met underfoot by a thick matt of webbing that looked almost solid in the making. Cloying and grey the ancient webbing was too thick just to brush aside and Sam just hoped this would only be but a brief encounter, as he slipped his tired frame through the hatchway.

The silk, sticky substance, wrapped itself around him as he entered the underground chamber and he had to stifle a small hiccup of fear at its all touch.

Now as he felt the greying webbing wrap around his face, smothering his nostrils and mouth, so that each hiccupped breath tightened the silk around him, he instantly developed an understanding to just where his brother's mindset was with all things 6 legged and 8 eyed

This was freaking scary shit.

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Sleep had been an easy illusion and all he knew that he had to get back to Farnborough and his brother.

The I.V. line had been quickly yanked from his hand and the alarming signal quickly silenced as he slipped out of his bed. He'd be fucked if he let those two old codgers tell him what they wanted him to hear

Internally he knew that the flames eating away at the bowels of the house had not claimed his brother. Of that he was more than sure, and he pitied his dad in not sensing this.

His heart still held onto this surety of hope, because he just knew that his brother was still alive. Could feel it in his gut and heart telling him this was so, and he seriously would kill anyone who tried to tell him otherwise.

**0O0O0O0/o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o\\O0O0O0**

_All the lovely reviews have just made me feel such a fraud, cos' quite honestly this story just seems to write itself and I have no idea what I am doing with it at times! So again sorry for the delay in updating, coupled with a big big thanks for letting me have your really supportive thoughts for the past chapters. _

_**P.S There really is a conclusion in the offing. Honest**! **Roz**_


	9. Chapter 9

_Thanks for your patience – this chapter took longer than expected to get done. I suppose RL, writers block, too many nights out and to few hours in the day all contributed to the delay! So be warned, unbeta'ed, grammatically screwed and with enough mistakes I imagine to sink the Ttitantic all over – please let me know what you think!_ _Again all your delicious reviews were a wonderful encouragement re the above that helped more than I can say. _

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The Effects of Gravity Chapter 9 – Dean Winchester is going to hell someday 

Sheriff Carnok hated his job at times, especially when offering up bad news. It had never been one of his strong points. That was what delegation was all about he had always reasoned, when he could walk away to let his junior officers break the news of something less than pleasant. But tonight there was no escaping from this one and finding his voice, steadied by bitter past experience he said as gently as he could. "Penny honey, I have to tell you something."

She looked up at him, blinking hard, having being around her dad enough to know when he was switching into work mode "Dad?"

"There was a report earlier over today - but I didn't make the connection with your Sam. I didn't know then that he was called Winchester…."

Instinctively she knew he was holding back on something and her heart iced over at seeing that certain look in his eyes, and small plea broke from her. "Daddy no. Please…."

Desperately she looked at her father's face, needing to see the lightness in his eyes, but they remained impossibly dark and she could feel herself shaking as he continued. "Penny there was an incident at that old Farnborough house and your Sam was involved. I'm sorry baby but listening to the reports its not good news."

She managed to choke out a distraught whisper. "What happened dad? Why was he there?"

"Oh honey all I know that is a quake hit the area and took whole house down and he was inside when it happened. I'm so sorry baby, but didn't get out in time…"

Ham Carnock wished he could cut out his own tongue as he watched his daughter dissolve before him.

"No daddy- not my Sam?" Penny cried out a soft scream of denial. "It can' be true. He said he would be here. He promised me…."

Breaking at the rawness of the news she flung herself at her father and welcomed how he wrapped his arms as tight as he could around her, because right now she didn't think she could breathe ever again. Not without Sam.

As he rocked his daughter in his arms Ham wished for the clock on the diner's far wall to suddenly stop, to then speed backwards to halt whatever happened to the Winchester boy from ever having taken place because it hurt to damned much to see his Penny like this.

Deep inside he damned the Winchester boy for making him speak such terrible truths, because such honesty was breaking his daughter's too young heart.

Whilst in the farthest reaches of Farnborough House a certain sixteen year old, smarter than smart, a too wise and definitely hard to destroy Winchester boy refused to play ball and die, and so made a certain Sheriff a big fat liar.

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Hot wiring a car was a piece of cake for Dean Winchester and the old Ford pickup he had targeted as the easiest to start up purred like a baby after a few minutes. For him it was a piece of cake, could have done it even blindfolded, concussion or no concussion.

A big smirk wore across his face as he revved the engine into life and he pulled away from the hospital at a rate that definitely defied the legal speed limit or that fact that was sporting a headache from hell.

The tight smile of satisfaction didn't leave him as he raced down the highway, as the determination to get back to his brother ruled him now completely. Because make no mistake Dean Winchester was on a mission. And that mission was to get his brother back.

The voices in his head kept him company as he sped down dark road was, all angry at what they had tried to force him to accept. Sammy was not dead, so screw dad, screw Jennings and all those other idiot sons of bitches who thought they knew what had happened to his brother.

Screw them all, because they knew absolutely nothing when it came to his brother.

All Dean could reason was that it had been always his responsibility to look after his little brother and he was not about to give up on that up job right now. So, no, _they _would not stop him now. It had been forever and day his job to keep him safe, and now he was not going to fuck things up with any more excuses.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Sliding through the hatchway had not been a pleasant experience, slipping blindly through the blanket of cobwebs to what lay below.

As he descended the feeling of being smothered made him choke back a frightened breath, and his hand instinctively clamped over his mouth and nose to keep them clear of the sticky stuff.

Then Sam's feet touched the ground sooner than expected and he slammed forward to slip dizzyingly against cold brick as his head swam alarmingly. Desperately his good arm shot forward to keep him upright, fingers digging in into the crumbling masonry for support, determined that he would not be going down anytime soon.

Gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain from his ribs and shoulder, protesting in little waves of disapproval, at his stumble through the hatch, he tried to straighten up only to bang his head against the low ceiling with a sharp crunch.

"Shit," he growled and ducked immediately a little lower, the crown of his head still smarting at the impact. "Why couldn't I be the frigging short ass of the family?" he asked irritably.

Something tickled the back of his neck and fitfully he grabbed at the thick dusty cobwebs still wrapping themselves around his head like some freaky mask. The grey gossamer threads clung tenaciously to his skin, hair and clothes but he managed to pinch most of the stuff from his face so that he could breathe easy again.

Slowly, now thankfully web free, Sam carefully cast an eye around his new surroundings, the torchlight picking out the tunnel's tight dimensions. Then abruptly he brought the beam to rest on where his ghostly companion waited patiently for him to follow.

In the total blackness the luminous quality of the child suddenly seemed so much brighter, as if a perfect beacon to lead him out to safety. David was a most welcome sight to Sam's tired eyes and he gave a small sigh of relief at not finding himself alone, the spirit now thought of a comfort than something to be hunted or feared.

Sam gave him a brief nod of acknowledgement then swung the torch around to take in better his new surroundings. The dank earthy smell that pervaded the musty air made his nose wrinkle in distaste but at least it was still smoke free.

Sharp eyes picked out the details of the mouldy brickwork that supported the manmade tunnel, noting that through the old bricks odd roots were poking through like gnarled fingers. They had wormed and knotted themselves around the tunnel, like dark snakes readying to snag and grab at him as he inched his way forwards.

Oh, yeah, something to be avoided he warned his tired body. Falling down was not going to an option he knew this time round His body just wouldn't get up again if he fell down again.

And he be fucked if he had come so far, suffered so much, just to be upended by one of mother natures little hurdles. Tree roots or not he was going to get sorry butt out of here, he told himself with renewed determination.

'Just stay sharp Sammy lad,' he told himself. "Don't you dare fall on the final lap home."

In the tunnel's tight space Sam's height was working against him and he found himself stooping forwards to avoid bumping his head again on the low ceiling. But a flicker of excitement now knotted his stomach, daring to hope that this tunnel would lead him out to the open air again.

In the back of his mind he found some satisfaction that nature had wormed itself down into this tight space because the presence of tree roots meant that he was getting further and further away from the house. And that meant closer to an escape.

The thought that this piss awful day was finally coming to an end buoyed his once flagging spirits giving him added strength and momentum to take him forwards. Wiping with his cuff the perspiration off his brow he locked eyes with the ghost one more. "Okay David, lead the way out of here my friend."

For a moment the ghost shimmered then re-coalesced to stand abruptly by his side again offering up a genuine look of puzzlement, his dark as coal eyes wide and hungry. "Do you mean that Sam?" A look of complete hope dared to shine from his pale face as he whispered again, the air curling from his cold frame in white wisps. "Can I really be your friend…?"

Sam could almost taste the emotional longing coming from the spirit and stooped lower and gently nodded. "Hey little man after what you've done today what else can you be?"

A tight smile ran across the ghost's wan face before his eyes dipped down to the ground as if suddenly embarrassed to be under such emphatic scrutiny and he muttered shyly. "Come on Sam, best you follow me now…."

"Yeah," acknowledged Sam as a warning shiver run down his spine as the spirit slid ahead, "Time to get the hell out of here."

He could sense that Time was still working against him as already the fire could be heard singing on the floor above, and he was left to wonder just how long the wooden hatch would last under its ferocity.

Purposely his stride lengthened to catch up with the retreating ghost, while a prayer muttered on his lips for a break in his bad luck to come his way. 'I so the hell want to be out of here, now,' he realised, "I really need to find Dean."

The day had just been too damn long and the hurts too many and sixteen year old Sam Winchester had just about reached the end of his limits, but he couldn't give up. Not least on Dean.

At remembering his last look at his brother before the darkness fell on him his heart constricted painfully. Dean had been out for the count, and had appeared so lifeless it had frozen the very blood in his veins. Desperately he found himself praying a soft mantra of hope that his crazy, normally Teflon coated older brother, hadn't been too badly hurt when dad had fled with him from the house.

It was a pity that David spooky vision hadn't been able to see more, to tell him that his exactly what had happened to his brother, because he so desperately needed to know that he would find him safe and well when he got out of here.

For now he just clung to this hope that Dean was going to be okay as an anchor, a lifeline, to take him away from the physical pains that rippled through him every step he took forwards.

Because, really, seriously, thought Sam, putting the older brother worship aside that he had kept within him since toddler-hood, he figured that at some point in time his brother had been touched by the Gods and had Superman status confirmed on him ever since.

How else could have survived the damages done on past hunts otherwise? Broken bones, big bloody wounds and internal damage that he hated to think off, all had been dealt with, brushed aside and Dean had always bounced back, whole again.

Sam couldn't hold back a chuckle of the thought of Dean 'posing' in red underpants and a cape. "Dude!" he whispered to himself, fighting back a sudden attack of the giggles. "You need to nix and erase that image permanently from memory. It is so not good, his ego doesn't need any more massaging as it is."

It felt good to laugh again, no matter how absurd it felt or how fragile the situation he found himself in. God, how desperately he wanted to his hear his brother voice again, here the ripple of sarcasm and bitching banter that came so easily from his tongue just once more. It would mean safety and home. Sam could do with a big dose of big brother right now.

So gritting his teeth again, Sam pushed the discomfort into the background, focusing only on what needed to done, and footstep followed footstep, offering up a strange echo that retreated after him as he chased after David.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o**

John Winchester for all his usual control wanted to smash something substantial, something hard, but the five foot nothing nurse looking up at him in surprise at finding Dean gone from his bed helped him keep the anger inside from taking physical shape. For now.

Through clenched teeth he asked again. "Just where the hell is my son?"

Aaron took his arm and gripped it hard. "That's not too hard to figure out John. He's gone to find Sam, so give the poor child a break before you frighten her half to death."

He offered a nod of sympathy to the young nurse who was quickly scurrying back to the Nurses station to raise the alarm that her patient had managed to escape from under her watch.

The older Winchester groaned out loud, his hands running shakily through his dark locks. "Goddamit Dean…why couldn't you just let him go."

He turned dark cold eyes up to his old friend, his face steeling itself as he faced the task ahead at getting his son back. The fear ate away at him of what was to come.

Like an unfolding vision he could see it all, feel it burrowing in the pit of his stomach, a fear like acid stripping him from the insides out, at having to face another confrontation with his oldest, another bout of grief, and the accusations that he failed Sam.

All of it was true. All of it was too painfully real.

How he wished these crippling emotions could all magically disappear so that they could pretend that his fucking mistakes had not torn their world apart and that his boys were still safely by his side. But Sam was gone, and now his oldest was out of control and that terrified him.

It made him dangerous, reckless and more importantly vulnerable.

Determination made John Winchester's face hard as he realised that if he was to save any part of what was left of his oldest boy he had to find him soon, rein him back in and get him to deal with his brother's loss. Now, sooner rather than later being the only option left to him.

Jennings saw the man before him change from a grief stricken father to the hunter that scared the shit out of him at times. Watching John Winchester morph into something cold, savage and totally single-minded was not a pleasant sight.

Deep down he wished he had never picked up his goddam phone to find out what had happened to Sam, and now having to deal with a missing Dean just made everything whirl crazily out of control and he could feel himself physically shaking now. 'Go home A.J. You can't do this anymore. This fucking hurts too much,'

As for John Winchester control seemed to be taking over him. As nothing, whether it be human or otherwise, would be able to stop him from finding his oldest child. "I need a ride A.J I left the car back at that damned house when they brought Dean in here. I have to find him before he manages to do something stupid."

A.J. realised his chance for escape had gone and he merely nodded his acquiescence and pulled his car keys out of his pocket with a shaky hand.

'I just cannot lose another son today', prayed John Winchester to whatever gods were listening as they run to the car. 'I just can't.'

Aaron Jennings echoed his same thoughts, as he started up the ignition, knowing that the man besides him was too dangerous a quantity without the grounding of his sons, now impossibly down to one, to keep what ever humanity he clung to inside of him.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o**

The old Ford served its purpose ferrying him back at reckless speeds to the ruins that had dared to take his little brother. Thankfully the nausea had abated to just a gurgle in his stomach and his vision no longer swam in and out of focus so that his drive from the hospital hadn't ended up by him running off the road or into another car. Small mercies aside he just hope this flagged a change in the Winchester's bad karma that had dogged them all day.

When he turned off to the side road up to Farnborough House, the old pickup came to an abrupt stop as Dean eyed the fire engines still at work, dampening down the orange flames eating away at the insides of the house.

The intensity of the blaze had lessened to a softer flicker of amber but his mouth went dry with fear recalling the sight earlier that day.

For a moment his heart froze again, and the voice of reason siting on his right shoulder mournfully explained to him that logically his little brother could not still be alive. '_Not with the fire still raging. Dean. Sam isn't fireproof you know? Right? Time to give it up_.'

Then the voice on his left shoulder angrily interjected. "_Like logic has got fuck all to do with it where's Sammy's concerned_. _Dean_ - _Go get your brother. Now._"

For all his scrambled thoughts Dean clung tenaciously to the realisation that no one knew his brother like he did. So the internal debate was instantly squashed because already he knew what his heart refused to give up on – that inexplicitly, despite what fate and logic threw at him today - that his stubborn freaky smart brother was still alive.

Focus, like his brother always seemed to possess in unnatural amounts, is what Dean needed right now he told himself. So silently he chewed away on his bottom lip, trying to decide on his next move. Confronting the emergency workers and rushing back to the house would get him nowhere he recognised as a given, but still somehow he had to find a way in to find Sammy.

Wearily he dared to close his heavy eyes, rubbing the back of his head as his skull throbbed a warning again which instinctively he chose to ignore. 'Think Dean, think!' he told himself. 'Just what was in that damn cellar before Sam fell into it? What the hell had that evil bitch kept hidden down there?'

Questions flooded his mind. Why wasn't the cellar on the original floor plans that he had briefly skirted over before the hunt? What had Sam been nagging him about all morning? That there something was off with the building itself?

Now he silently scolded himself at recognising his own mistakes leading up today's hunt. Why hadn't he bothered to listen to his brother's warnings when he had voiced off?

Recognising his own short comings frightened Dean. He was supposed to be constantly on the alert, and not fail when it came to Sam. But now he was forced to wonder just when he had become so attuned to switching off when Sam questioned something.

The kid was always intent on demanding an explanation that was either to long in the answer of or just to difficult to comprehend in the first place. It had worn thin at times and now it had become easier to brush them aside than actually listen to them.

Somehow in ignoring Sam's questions today he must have missed something important, perhaps something vital? Dean felt a bubble of self hate in his throat. He should have at least tried to listen and maybe none of this would have happened. But he had been too busy playing sidekick to big Daddy to listen to little annoying Sam. 'God your such a prick at times,' he ranted at himself. 'Next time listen to the kid.'

Now his mind raced over the scenario of earlier that morning, trying to recall what his brother had dug up on the house and that freaky bitch Miss Charlotte.

The house had once looked so different, proudly elegant, in the black and white photos Sam had dug up. They showed the house at the hub of a sophisticated world of high society and shady characters. It was a giddy mixture of wild parties and social events rivalling the trashy flashy excesses of Speakeasy era of the twenties and thirties at its worse.

Then the proverbial flashbulb went ping in Dean's head. "Fuck me" he growled his mind instantly spinning at the idea at what Miss Charlottes world must have been really like sitting side by side with Prohibition and Bootlegging, and the plain old fashioned greed and corruption that went with it.

That's why the cellar hadn't been on the plans - it was where she kept the frigging illegal contraband.

"Oh you crafty evil little bitch," muttered Dean under his breath. "You must have had a smugglers tunnel built to run under the house to beat the long arm of Elliott Ness."

It all made sense now. After all she couldn't just have the bootleggers drive it up to the front door could she? She had her perfect little 'Miss Charlotte' image to protect after all.

For a brief moment Deans' face split open with a wide grin of hope, as potentially he was now on track to finding Sammy. Then it hit him like a kick to the gut that even armed with this new knowledge it still didn't point in him in the right direction to start looking for that most elusive opening. And all he could think to say was "Fuck."

It was impossibly dark out there away from the fire, the lightly wooded area stretched all around the house and not one of those damned trees had a neon sign post saying 'Smugglers tunnel this way.'

With a groan he buried his head in his hands, despair momentarily knocking the strength out of him. Just where should he start? Then the voices drifting down wind from the fire crew caught his attention and with a frown his eyes caught the pump lines feeding the fire engine crews and realised that they had to be getting the water from somewhere.

Just like before another light bulb went ping inside Dean's head and the ghost of Thomas Eddison smiled happy again.

_It had to be the lake. That beautiful fucking lake_!

A boat was the simplest way to bring in all that bootlegged gear across to the house. Away from the main road, and away from FBI scrutiny

Eager to get going he rummaged through the Ford's dashboard and hysterical hiccups soon escaped his lips as he realised he must have hotwired the local Scout leader's ride as various scouting paraphernalia spilled out.

Chalking up this little misdemeanour as just one small step on his ride to hell in later life, Dean blew out a thankful sigh of relief when out spilled a large old fashioned metal torch.

'Always be prepared' he heard someone whisper in his ear, and he realised that the fates were firmly back on his side because the torch shone brightly when he turned it on.

Swinging himself out the car onto wobbly legs Dean drew a shaky breath. Now he had the hope back that Sam could be safe he just needed to find his way to him.

He has wasted too much bloody time today already, and now he was all determined to get his brother back whether that meant he had to storm the very gates of hell in a snatch and grab raid if necessary. Dean Winchester was getting his brother back.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o**

Aaron Jennings could feel the waves of frustration and pain peeling off his old friend in waves as they sped along the interstate. There were no words he could offer up, nothing he could say that would alleviate the hurt that he was going through. All he could do was drive faster and get them to Dean as soon as humanly possible.

He cast a quick eye over the man and already he could sense the damage that losing his youngest was doing to the hunter. His tall frame seemed shrunken, eyes rimmed with dark circles and the tight slash of his mouth betrayed the coldness seeping into his soul.

Anger that fate had dared to hurt his family again was slowly mutating the grief into something dark and ugly. Pure anger was destroying whatever balance he had kept since Mary's death and the only he thing he knew that might pull him back from the dark edge was to find Dean safe.

Jennings prayed that whatever the rest of the night brought to John Winchester it did not involve him losing Dean too. Losing Sam was bad enough. At that acknowledgement his breath hitched tightly in his throat at the memory.

'Jesus, Sammy really is gone,' he forced himself to admit, a fact his heart had been in desperate denial of. With a long shaky sigh his hands gripped tighter round the steering wheel as they travelled along the darkened road, while his heart finally gave in and crumbled. 'Oh sweet Jesus, that boy really is gone.'

John had caught a look at his friend as they drove along, saw the welling of tears and knew that the old man was finally coming to recognise that they had all lost Sammy today. Seeing him silently cry like that forced him to quickly look away. Jennings grief was a distraction he couldn't deal with right now.

Because for now he had to remain strong and in control His Sam was gone, but he might still be able to save Dean. He had to believe in that. He had to have some hope left.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0oo0o0o0o**

David paused and waited for a tiring Sam to catch up. When he did the pained breath from the older boy made him look at him a little closer. The dark stain on Sam's shirt was bright and shiny to his eyes, the redness and life force oozing out of the older boy an alarming sight.

"You need to stop that," declared David, jabbing a bony finger up to the wound, "Your light is fading too quickly now…"

Confused Sam found himself asking. "My light…?"

"Yes. You. Your light. It is not as vivid as when I first saw you. It's not as bright when you first came into the house," offered up the ghost, with an innocence that made Sam flinch. "It's leaking away from you. Why don't you stop it?"

The palm of his hand over the weeping wound Sam looked down at the ghost, realising what he was being told. He knew the wound was bad, and the continued blood loss was weakening him fast, he just hadn't expected to have it flashed up for him to see it all through a ghost's eyes. "David I can't – but you stopped it before. Can't you do it again?"

"No. I would do too much damage if I tried again. You need to stop it," answered David with a sadness to his voice that hovered in the air. "I'm sorry Sam."

"It's okay David, but the sooner you get me out here there will mean there will be someone who can help me." Dean would stop him from bleeding out. He always did.

David nodded and they pushed on again and within a few minutes they had come to the end of the tunnel and to the final doorway to freedom. "That's the way out Sammy," acknowledge David with a tight smile. "You can go home now. Dean is coming for you."

Sam fingered the wooden door with a wide smile of relief. Tentatively he reached down for the metal handle and with a slight push the door way creaked open. The cold draft of fresh air hit him square in the voice and he offered up a small laugh of relief.

Sam turned excitedly to the little ghost. "You did it David. You got me out," his voice cracking with emotional relief, he added. "Come on David lets get the hell out of here. I for one have had enough of Miss Charlotte and her fucking house."

He didn't expect the tears to fall from the ghost at his words and he paused in the doorway and he was forced to ask, "What is it David?"

"I can't follow you out _there_. I'm not allowed. She told me I could never leave here. Not ever. I have to say goodbye Sam."

The dark longing in his black eyes tore through Sam. He had seen it in his own eyes too many times to ignore. There had been too many times when had seen the friends that he had made come and go in his short life, but not one like this.

The stubborn streaking possessing the core of his being kicked in. "Like hell you can't David. Like hell you can't."

David visibly flinched at the anger in the older boy's voice, but it also ignited a small spark of hope. Could he really get free from _her_?

_**TBC**_

_**One final chapter to come and then it will all be done and dusted I hope. Feedback would be most welcome! Roz.**_


	10. Chapter 10

Usual disclaimers apply. 

_**Big thanks to the really great reviews – one and all- I can honestly say they helped this very tardy, pathetically slow writer, strive to write a little bit faster and better with each new posting. Roz.**_

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

. The Effects of Gravity Chapter 10 - Stubborn Sam 

"John, does Jim know yet?" asked Jennings as softly as he could not wanting to put more pressure on the man. Still there were people out there that needed to be told about Sam, about the events of the day, sooner rather than later. In their small tight community of Hunters this news would be telegraphed rapidly and all that knew John and his boys would share in the loss.

"No…not yet," answered John. He couldn't meet his friend's questioning look, his brow knotted in a frown as he stared out into the distance as they sped back to Farnborough. With a tired sigh he rubbed his gritty eyes and added. "It can wait until I get my boy back."

Jennings gave him another knowing look adding, "Its alright Johnny, I'll do the necessary, you just makes sure that Dean is going to be okay_." _

_God knows how you're going to be able to do that, John. To fix that gaping hole in Dean's soul that losing his brother will have made. I couldn't do it with my wife and look where it left her – permanently hospitalised for nigh on 25 years now. _

_And call it what you like, Sanatorium, Nursing home, Mental Institution, or just plain honest Nut House, what it all boiled down was she had been left so permanently broken, that neither myself or anyone else was unable to put her back together again. _

_How on earth was John going to be able to pick up the pieces left of his son and make him whole again, when he himself was so fucking broken?_

The older man sighed, his eyes too bright at recalling just how devastated he and his poor Martha had been when they'd lost Efram and James. Two bright lives taken so devastatingly and cruelly from them.

So why the hell did this keep happening to them all? This was beyond cruel, this life that they led, when it kept on taking the best and brightest from them. Just like it had taken Sam.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

David tarried by the doorway, a small frown on his pinched features. Sam's angry insistence that he come out with him was so tempting, but the fear of Miss Charlotte and her threats still kept him rooted to the spot.

As he eyed the older boy he could sense the energy draining from him and felt a pang of guilt ripple over him. "Sam you have to go. I can't go out there." He seemed to stumble over his words, till they came out in a strained whisper. "I don't deserve too. Not now."

The tremor and timidity in his young voice puzzled Sam deeply. Somehow he had to reach him, get him past this fear. "David you deserve to get out of here more than anyone else. Please don't let that evil bitch win now. Come on kiddo, its you and me together all the way – remember?"

David shook his head in refusal, a look of panic flitting across his sunken features as he retreated further way from the doorway, as if trying to shrink back into the darkness.

Sam sagged against the frame, unsettled by this strange reaction, and knew that he could not go back in there even if he wanted to do. Just standing there was taking the last of his reserves. "You know I won't leave you here. Let it go David, and come out with me."

A small sob could be heard as David declared painfully. "Please Sam. You don't know what I did."

"Then tell me David. I promise it will be okay. But we really do need to get the hell out of here."

A petulant pout marred the youngster face, and he cocked a knowing eye up to the older boy. "You won't like me anymore if I tell you. Then you'll be just like Katie."

"Katie?" queried an exhausted Sam more than a little confused by the little boy's train of thoughts.

He got no further as the bitterness expelled itself from the child around him like a cold punch of air. Too many years to wonder about and to puzzle over why his sister had not come back had left its marks on the child. "She must have hated me something fierce. That's why she left me. That's why she never came back. "

Sam tried to reason with him again, the pain starting to worsen in his shoulder, beyond the dull ache he had managed to keep in the background, so it was with gritted teeth he hissed. " Come on, you don't know that. From what you told me your sister loved you, and wouldn't have stopped seeing you without a reason."

If Sam could have reached down and grabbed the pesky little ghost child and dragged him physically out of that damned tunnel he would have at that point, his patience growing thinner as his strength deserted him. But David, never really corporeal enough for such physical threats, just wavered too far away for him to even think of trying to grab him.

David resisted all attempts to cajole him back out, answering Sam's reasoning for why his sister had left him with his own. "No, you don't know what Miss Charlotte would say. Such horrible things, always whispering in the darkness that I was such a bad naughty boy. That's why Katie didn't come back for me – because I was so wayward."

The tiny spirit seemed to shrink even smaller, to whither physically under the gaze of Sam's tired eyes and his voice hiccupped with pent up pain and fear as he finally admitted. "I don't mean to be naughty or wilfully bad - not least to you."

Sam's brow furrowed at the child's strange words. "I don't understand - how were you ever bad to me David? You got me out of that hell house."

A true smile followed, dimples and all, as he acknowledged. "Hey, without you I'd have been dust by now."

David flinched visibly under the open smile and his form wavered between solidness and vapour as the distress eating away inside him became visible. "No, it was my fault,"

A long stream of white air drew around him as he uttered up a confession, tears filling his charcoal eyes. "Don't you understand it yet? _I_ made you fall. I wanted to see you so much that I pulled you down to me."

Sam physically froze in the doorway at the little spirit's admission, recalling the fall in all its glory and the nightmare that had followed.

_There had been a brief moment when he had felt something punch through him like a jolt of electricity as he struggled to maintain his balance on the edge. It had been like a nudge that rippled across him, so that he had been pushed backwards defying his struggles to stay upright. And then he had fallen. And dad had left him. _

Now all the pieces came together, and the guilt he had carried with him that he had screwed up the hunt yet again was immediately lifted from his shoulders. 'At least that was something his dad couldn't screw him down with this time', he thought bitterly.

For a moment he closed his eyes, fighting back the tears, the relief and anger melding into a fierce tightness in his chest, but it soon passed and he let out a long shaky breath as the tension dissipated at seeing the small broken boy before him.

They had both suffered enough today and all he wanted was for them to step out into the clean fresh air and leave the nightmare behind them, once and for all.

Sam bent slowly forwards, the effort costing him dearly, but he was not willing to give up on the child. "David, really it's okay. You were just lonely, and I can understand why it happened. I really do. But what you have to understand now is that I am not going to leave you here. So you'd better believe it when I tell you that we're both getting out this stinking hellhole together."

Unconvinced David shook his head, still too caught up in what his actions had caused. "But you got hurt because I've been naughty Sam. Just like _she_ always said I was, so you have to hate me now. You just have to..."

"Hey I don't hate you, not because of some stupid mistake. Besides you didn't bring the house down on top of me afterwards, did you?" demanded Sam.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly at the appalled look of denial flashed across the small ghost's face, and he continued. "So then getting my scrawny butt out of that really crappy situation back there has been all your doing, right? So that makes us something like brothers, and brothers don't leave another behind. Not ever."

A look of astonishment washed over David's face and a small smile lifted his lips as he asked in disbelief. "Brothers?"

"Yep, so come on you have to listen to me, because I'm the big brother here and little brothers have to listen to them. Always."

Sam laughed again, realising that he sounded just like Dean. God how he missed not having his own big brother with him, and the need to get out into the open and find him suddenly overwhelmed him. He lurched back to stagger against the wooden frame of the doorway, fingering it for support, and knew that it was now or never for both him and David.

As if sensing all of this shyly David nodded up at him, the light glowing in his eyes again, the tears falling again but without the heartbreak behind them. Now a bright smile covered his pale face and with a fierce pride he swept up to Sam and said loudly. "Come on then Sam, I'll take you out of here, big brother."

Sam gave out a long breath of relief, and slowly straightened up, the view from the doorway a delicious sight. In the pale moonlight the shapes of tall trees could be made out.

Real honest too goodness nature at its frigging best, he told himself as he slammed the heavy door to the tunnel shut behind him to stagger forwards into the fresh air.

"Come on Dean, come get me now," he whispered against the gentle breeze. "I've done my bit, but I could really do with a little helping hand right about now."

Sam stood tall again, searching out the surrounding areas for any signs of his brother, or even his dad, but he soon realised he was alone. Only the soft breeze lifting the leaves on the trees seemed to answer him in return.

In the distance, up the sloping tree line, he could glimpse the orange burning the night sky from the fire consuming all that was rotten in that house. A second of absolute fear stole his breath away at the sight at realising that was where he needed to return to find his brother and father.

It looked too far away, to hard a journey, when all he wanted to do was sink onto the soft grass and sleep. Perhaps waiting for daybreak wouldn't be such a bad idea, he tried telling himself, as he shivered in the cold of the night.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The torch was the only way Dean was able to navigate his way down without falling over roots and bushes as he came to the edge of the lake. His legs were still wobbly and his head was singing a loud jingle with every step he took, but he still he persisted. This was still doable he told himself as he wormed his way down to the waters edge, the hunt for Sam being his only real focus.

The noises behind him had dimmed as the Emergency Service workers voices became muted and more distant, till only the sound of his heavy laboured breathing broke the smothering silence.

Despite the pounding in his head he remained alert, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Then glinting under the moonlight, casting a strange rippling shadow on the dark water, he caught sight of the remnants of a small wharf, the wooden structure almost stripped bare by time and vandals.

Instantly a huge megawatt grin broke across Dean's tired face, as he reasoned that the smugglers tunnel wouldn't be far from that old structure. 'Not if the bad guys had to carry all that naughty heavy stuff by hand', he told himself

"I'm coming Sammy. Just hang in their little brother." ordered Dean out loud the boom of his voice echoing across the open water.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

The little spirit once free of the house had gone ahead to stand in a little clearing. He had the most peculiar looking on his grey face that was turned up the sky - as if seeing the night stars for the first time. They smothered the hemisphere, a blanket of sparkling smudges of light that kept the little child's eyes locked to the heavens in awe.

In the dim moonlight Sam walked slowly over to where his little rescuer stood, a tight smile of appreciation on his sweating face. The effort of following after him was taxing to say the least, but he still felt a little spellbound watching as the ghost shimmered and flickered in the night air.

"I've been waiting…so long," whispered a soft voice to the left of where Sam stood and confused he swung his torch around to find the owner.

Barely able to remain on his feet he was still able to stagger back from the slowly forming figure, punching back the darkness with a burn of silver shimmering light. Hoping beyond hope that this was not another encounter with the fiery poltergeist of earlier that day, Sam swallowed back the moment of panic.

After his day from hell this was the last thing he needed. Another Casper deciding to join their ranks was not part of the plan he wanted to shout out angrily. He regretted the loss of his backpack right about now as rock salt and a shotgun would have come in really handy he figured.

The apparition was morphing into something distinctly human in form, and it spoke again, taking the eerie silence of the night away as it whispered. "I've being waiting forever Davy."

At hearing his pet name the child's eyes grew wide, and impossibly black, as he spun to the familiar voice with a tight gasp of disbelief before he was able to ask. "Katie?"

His older sister, not more than sixteen years and little in stature, stared pointedly at him, a needful smile spread across her pale face as she flickered and drifted across the open space towards her brother.

"Why didn't you come back for me?" demanded the little spirit angrily of her, taking a step back as she took solid form in her approach to him. His tiny fists shook angrily in her direction as he added. "I was alone for such a long time. Why didn't you come for me?"

The young girl, delicately pretty, wearing the same dark eyes as her brother stopped calmly in front of him. "I never left you Davy. Never. I just couldn't get back to you in there."

Her long slim fingers pointed beyond the break in the heavy tree line to the amber glow coming from the remains of the house. "I tried to get back to you, but _she_ wouldn't let come in to the house again. So I've waited for you. - I would have waited forever Davy."

She opened her arms and David rushed into his sister's tight embrace, her face burying into the crown of his head as she whispered through her tears "I could never leave you me dearest little one."

Katie, her skin so pale against the dark night, looked teary eyed up at Sam. "Thank you," she whispered and took her baby brother's hand in her hers. David also looked up at him, and for a moment he appeared so real, so human, that Sam wanted to touch him and feel the warmth of his skin, but knew that it was just an illusion.

"Dean is coming now, you'll be better soon." acknowledged David, his heart whole again, safe once more in Katie's hands, a wistful look touching his eyes knowing that this was the end of their long day's journey and new found friendship "I will never forget you. Goodbye Sam."

Both ghostly children had found their earth bound desires and with a sigh that lingered in the air for the longest second their spirits found freedom to disappear like mist on the wind.

Sam scarcely able to keep himself upright as the emotional scene played out before him found himself nodding his approval as the siblings removed themselves from their earthly bonds. "Bye little brother. Find peace Davy."

He knew that he was crying, but didn't care for once. Winchester or not the tears were a welcome release. They let the emotional baggage of the day seep out of him. At least David had found his much needed escape. The weight of being abandoned by his sister now lifted as Katie reclaimed him.

Shakily he wiped away the last of the tears, realising that they hadn't just been about the small child left to die in the underbelly of that evil house and all the cruelty that went with it. No, in part, he had cried over his own fears and anger that had made up the day.

Still the tears hadn't lifted that sour taste still lingering in his mouth as he struggled to keep in check his own sense of abandonment. Perhaps he was being unfair he reminded himself, his Dad had only the one choice to make, but the look on his face as he left him behind had offered no comfort, no apology other than to say, "Deal with it kid."

"I'll deal with it, in my own frigging way old man." hissed Sam defiantly as he pulled himself up straight again, his chin square in rebelliousness. "You just wait and see…"

His hand needed to steady the torch to spot the way ahead, and couldn't help but wince and hiss in pain as he released the pressure against his shoulder and felt the warmth seep out again. The only words that could match the pain came thick and fast, the curse words easy on his lips having learnt them when only hip high from his older smart mouthed brother.

Amazingly the list of expletives had an almost endorphic effect on him and the adrenal started pumping again. "You can do this Sam. Prove him wrong," he demanded of himself before starting on the slow trek back towards the house, eyeing the distance as a challenge to be met.

A shout broke his concentration, the deep voice easily recognisable as his name was screamed out into the night. "Sam!"

A light was shone on him and he blinked rapidly against the harsh beam as his brother raced forwards to him. A smile twisted his lips, as a sense of relief took over making him feel a little giddy as he recognised that his older brother had found him. "Hey, Dean!" he answered weakly scanning over his brother for visible injury. "You Okay?"

"Sam!" Dean called out again and a second later he was reaching out to draw him into a tight bear hug, squishing him so tightly to him that he couldn't have fallen down even if he wanted to. "God little brother, don't you ever fucking scare me like this again. You hear?"

Under the tight embrace pain flared up from Sam's shoulder made real by a small wail in the back of his throat making itself heard and Dean quickly let him go, his torch quickly flicking over him.

"Oh, Jesus fucking hell Sam," cursed Dean out loud, noting the wetness on his little brother's shirt with a gasp and worried frown. "What the hell happened to you?"

Fighting down the ripple of pain the hug had induced Sam snorted. "A huge bloody house fell on me, what the hell do ya think happened_?" _

There was so much more that he needed his brother to hear, for him to say out loud, but his throat felt too tight, and it was too hard to draw in breath now to offer any more words. Instead it was all he could do to stay awake to wonder at his brother's concerned words as the world went topsy-turvy once again

Dean was already shirtless by the time Sam had managed to snap a pain filled response and was firmly pressing the cloth over the wound, barking out orders with practiced ease. "Okay, keep your hand here Sammy. Don't let up on the pressure" as he eased his brother down to the ground A hand brushed across his forehead, feeling the heat radiating from the touch. "Shit, you're burning up bros."

Dean's fingers lingered on the brow of his brother's head, a deep sigh elicited from him as he savoured just being with his little brother again.

For too long today he feared he would never be able to see him again, let alone touch him. Now as he pressed the shirt back over the wound, felt the warmth of his brother's blood seep through his fingers, all he could think of was at least he was still alive for him to worry about all over again.

Nothing was worth more than this he realised as he studied his little brother's pale face. It was all he had left to fight for, his family, his geeky beautiful stubborn little brother.

For a moment he struggled to fight down his tears as the realisation hit him that he had almost lost it all today. Sam by all rights should not be still alive.

Dean's face twisted into a familiar smirk, knowing the reason why. His brother was a living freak at times and it seemed no one had bothered telling the powers-that-be that Sam Winchester was one mean son of a bitch and when he put his mind to no one or anything could stop him. So whether it was a frigging earthquake or a blazing inferno they could not beat that tenacity out of him - not ever.

Dean felt a surge of overwhelming pride rise in him. Pride that his baby brother had proved the predictions wrong by remaining very much alive. Even if he was left hurting, bleeding out, his Sam had still managed to survive against all the odds. That's just what he would expect from him.

For a moment longer he studied the outline of his brother's face before reaching out to pat his face appreciatively. "You did good kiddo."

Sam's eyes flew open at the contact. "Hey Dean," he offered up with a small smile on his lips, letting his slim fingers curl around his brother's wrist in a comforting touch. "I knew you'd find me…that you'd come back for me."

Dean managed to swallow down the tremor in his voice at the innocent belief that his brother had in him. "Yeah well for a while back there things looked a bit dicey I can tell you." He watched as Sam nodded, his eyes hooded with pain, and added quickly. "Best you just remember what an awesome big brother you have kiddo."

"The best…" answered Sam, his clear eyes offering up no doubt about his sincerity.

The bleeding had slowed thankfully, but it remained patently obvious that Sam needed help, sooner rather than later. The burden of being 'the best' big brother rolled easily back over his shoulders. "Okay Sammy. This is all fixable. Just stay still and I'll go get some help."

"No," cried out Sam latching on to the words that he was about to leave him, again. Unable to suppress a shudder of fear his fingers dug desperately into his brother's wrist. "Don't you leave me too Dean. Please. Don't go."

_I can't do this again, he wanted to add, not alone in the dark. Not without you by my side._

Seeing the desperation on his kid brother's face Dean did the only thing he could, he bent down and lifted his brother over his shoulder, ignoring the grunt of pain it brought from Sam, and started the walk back to the fire, all the while offering up nonsensical words that matched his equally screwed up head.

All he knew as he fought down the to need curl up and vomit is that for his freaky geeky little brother he would have walked over hot coals bare footed ten times over to get him the help he needed.

That's what big brothers were supposed to do, weren't they? And for once Dean Winchester was not afraid to let the tears fall easily down his face at having being allowed the chance to play big brother again.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Oh my god your not going to believe the call out we've just got Pete?" demanded Janice excitedly as she quickly snapped her seatbelt in place.

Pete looked wearily at her. God knows he loved her dearly, and that both of them were doing double shifts to enable them to put their first down payment on that house – and it _had_ really seemed important when they started work earlier that day. But right now all he wanted to do was catch up on forty winks in one of the rigs trolleys without having to play twenty questions.

Ideally the thoughts of stuffing a wadge of bandage into her mouth before shooting her full of sedatives seemed so appealing as he watched her perky face look him up and down with knowing smirk. How could she not be tired. It was just plain irritating. Still he said none of this, only turning his head to her and asked with a weary smile. "No baby I can't guess. So tell where are we being buzzed to next?"

"Pete - it's the Farnborough place again."

"That damn fire I bet. Has the Burns Unit been alerted?" he asked, struggling off the trolley and hastily getting back into the drivers seat.

"Nope – the fire seems under control, and no that's not reason we've been called out. She gave him a teasing smile as he started up the vehicle and pulled it out of the emergency bay.

"Okay Janice you know I'm not good at these guessing game. Just tell me or shoot me. Whichever one is quicker," demanded the paramedic tersely.

"God your such a grouch when you don't get enough sleep" she pouted at her partner, but when his lips thinned into a warning she added quickly. "That guy that we took to Mercy's is back at the Farnborough house again."

Realising that she meant the Winchester guy he was simply amazed. The last he had heard he had been doped up to the gills for trying to flatten one of the ER doctors with one hell of a concussion to go with it the bad attitude. Seriously impressed the by kids tenacity he gave a low whistle. "Well I'll be damned. Just how the hell did he manage to do that?"

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

**T.B.C.**

_Don't shoot me please. I know I promised to end it with this chapter, but the damn story just keeps on spreading itself out across the page and unless your willing to read another 10 pages I have to pause it here for now. Hopefully I can tie it all up by the next_!

_On a plus note at least Sam & Dean are back together again – for now! _Roz.


	11. Chapter 11

_**Usual disclaimers apply.**_

_**Again thank you for all the delicious reviews despite my slowness in posting! This is almost it. One more chapter and then fingers X'd it will be all done and dusted! (Oh, wait me thinks I've promised this before? Did I? Confusion & doubt mars my still botox free brow…but honestly just one more chapter to come!) **_

**The effects of gravity**

**Chapter 11 – Forever falling away**

"I need help here," barked Dean above the growl of the water pumps and noise of the overworked engines as he staggered up outwards of the woods towards the ruins of the house.

As the line of fireman standing by their engines didn't respond Dean couldn't bite back the angry growl between clenched teeth when no one responded. "Fucking morons, what's a guy got to do about her to get some help here - Die perhaps?"

With all the effort to keep his brother over his shoulder the sweat poured off him, soaking his shirt, bedding his hair to his scalp, desperate in his need to get his little brother some much needed help.

When no one responded to his frantic call he shifted the slipping form of his too quiet brother back over his shoulder and fought against the slight incline that led him back towards help. Desperately his feet dug leverage into the soft sliding ground so that with each step he forced himself away from the trees and up nearer to the Emergency crews.

Now free of the trees he could see people again, and ignoring the constricting tightness of his throat shouted out loudly. "Hey, you idiots my brother needs some fucking help - now." _Please. Save him._

Grown men with startled expressions turned towards him. Then as if time itself decided to speed up in a blur of movement many arms rushed forwards to him. Soon his brother's weight was lifted from his aching shoulder. The sweet release of the heavy weight from his tired body was instantly felt, and he sucked in hungrily desperate breaths.

"Help him, please." he whispered as he felt himself tilting forward, his body now rebelling as the adrenal ceased and readied itself for shutdown.

With a swiftness that stopped any attempts of helpful hands the ground decided to fling itself up to his eye line and he fell forwards to meet it. All he managed to gasp out as his head hit the deck and all went black again was a soft call for his brother, 'Sammy….'

Sam Winchester heard his brother's soft call but the he had no power left to answer as careful hands lifted him from his brother and blissfully unconsciousness soon took over just like it had taken his brother.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

"What the hell is it now?" snapped a too tired Chief Braddock as he was called over to Engine 8. The fire was finally starting to go out and all he wanted to do was shower, go home and have supper with that cold beer calling his name. He didn't need any more dramas to make this day any longer.

As he approached his eyes widened in disbelief, noticing the prone figure lying by the rig with one his captain's hovering over him, checking his pulse. A confused frown lifted Braddock's brow as he asked, "You have to be kidding me Eddie. Isn't that the guy from earlier? Shit, last thing I heard he was at Mercy's…what's he doing back here?"

His deputy looked up at him with a studied smile on his soot smudged face and nodded over to a second figure, that Braddock eyes widened in disbelief on seeing. "Well I guess he has made us out to be a bit of liar here, because if I'm not mistaken Chief that's his brother."

Braddock's tired face blanched at the news before the heaviness of the day suddenly lifted allowing the small childish belief in miracles take hold again. The kid had survived and it felt suddenly so good be doing what he did for a living once more. "Well I'll be jiggered, that kid must have had his own army of guardian angels watching over him today."

He knelt down to inspect him closer, hissing slightly as he noticed for the first time the dark stain of blood that covered most of his shirt. The kid was tall for his age, colt like with his long arms and legs, but asleep he looked far younger than his sixteen years.

Eddie was now keeping firm pressure on the shoulder wound but the boy's breath was laboured and wet sounding. Braddock squatted down by the youngster's side and carefully checked him over, noting how his dark wavy hair was matted to his head and he could see the edge of a wound in the hairline, clotted with dark blood. "Tough kid, hey Eddie?" he remarked softly, adding "Have you called this in yet?"

"Already done Chief, the paramedics are on their way back Hope they hurry because the kid looks just about done in, " adding tiredly, "Looks like he's bled out a lot and busted a few ribs too along the way."

Braddock carefully lifted up the wet shirt, sticky with blood, and winced at the sight. Black bruises mottled the boy's chest and he could see the unnatural outline of broken ribs on the right side.

In the artificial arc of lights the boy looked too young and frighteningly pale and he wondered just how he had survived this day at all. "Yeah, lets hope he makes it. It would the worse kind of bad luck if he doesn't."

The Chief caught the guarded look in Eddie's eyes, too aware that they both had sons near to this boy's age and the thought of one of theirs having to go through such a hell of day tore deep. With a cough to clear the emotion from his voice he asked, "So how's his brother doing?"

"I think he just collapsed from the effects from earlier, hopefully it's just from the whack he took earlier and exhaustion. His pulse is steady," he paused, chewing momentarily at his bottom lip, "Makes you wonder how he got back to here to find his brother like that. Freaking fucking amazing if you ask me."

"Yeah, hard assed son of a bitch," muttered Braddock in return with an admiring smirk on his face. "He kept insisting that his brother wasn't gone. Even smacked his dad I heard later at one point. Love to see the family reunion when it takes place…. "

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Jennings swung the car sharply into the turning of the gravel road that led up to the house. As the car crunched up the driveway the older man's face showed his surprise at seeing so many engines still at work. He was forced to swallow back the burn of acid in his throat as he saw the remains of the house beyond still hissing black smoke as the fire was wetted down.

'That's were Sam is now' he reminded himself coldly, catching a glimpse of the controlled face of John Winchester in his rear view mirror, sitting impassively blank as his eyes once again looked on the ruins of the house.

Pulling up beyond the first line of fire trucks Jenning's turned to his friend, masking his own pain as best he could. "I'll ask if anyone has seen Dean." before quickly exiting the car.

John nodded and watched the tall man walk up towards the busy crews before turning his eyes to the road ahead. Sharp eyed he frowned on noticing a beat up pickup some thirty yards up, partially hidden in the shadows. "Dean" he muttered, his hunter instincts kicking in overtime pulling his weary body out of car. "Got yourself an easy ride over here then son, eh?"

Doggedly he strode quickly over to the ill parked car, half in the bushes and half on the track, and peered in side. Sitting on the passenger side was the spilled out contents of the passenger compartment and John nodded his understanding. Ransacked no doubt by Dean in his misguided quest to get his brother back. Looking down he tried to see the trail that Dean had taken, intent on getting his son back hopefully none the worse after his reckless attempts to achieve the impossible. Sam was gone, and Dean was going to have to learn to deal with it.

The thought of his youngest brought back the he burning sting of tears fuelling the pain in his chest, but his fear for his eldest override his need for grief right now. Sam was gone, but he'd go to hell and back to stop anything happening to Dean now. Dean was, had always been, the perfect son and he would not fail him like he had Sam.

John slowly straightened up, pushing the knot of fear aside. Fighting down his own emotions was a well honed skill learnt over too many years of pain and heartache, and he soon clawed back emotional control. Falling apart right now would not do his oldest any good right now. What he needed was for his father to remain strong.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Braddock listened to the tall man in front of him and couldn't stop the silly grin from splitting his face as he heard the name 'Winchester'.

A.J. frowned more than a little disturbed by the Chief's reaction to his question and his face darkened a shade. "Look all I'm asking is that you keep an eye open for the boy. He needs medical attention and well you know he's not thinking straight and all…"

Braddock interrupted him with a wave of his hand. "Sir, I've got both boys over there," he indicated with a hitch of his thumb over his left shoulder. "You want to check them out to make sure they are the boys you're looking for?"

"Both boys?" Jenning's sucked in his breath in disbelief his eyes looking past the broad shoulders of the fire chief. A small crowd of men were huddled around two still forms and his heart jack knifed in his chest as he was able to catch a glimpse of Sam through the crowd. He staggered slightly at the sight, and Braddock clasped a hand of support onto his shoulder afraid that he was about to collapse. "He's …"

"Alive, yes," answered Braddock before Jennings could stutter out his feared question. "And his brother is okay too."

A wide smile of relief bathed the older man's face and for a moment he looked more handsome than his usual beat up self, freed from the burden of time and worry. When he left John in the car this was the last possible scenario he imagined to find, with both brothers very much alive.

Brushing past Braddock, who nodded his understanding, Jennings waded through the small crowd needing to physically touch them both to make sure that his eyes were not playing grief ridden tricks on him.

Despite his aching knees he bent down to the tall figure and marvelled at how much he had grown since last summer. The boy emerging into adulthood was very much here despite all of what fate had thrown at him today, and his heart did somersaults at the miracle of having him back in his life again.

Tentatively he reached out letting his fingers touch the still figure, his skin tingling at the joy of touching Sam's warm hand in his own. A sob broke away from his throat and he bowed his head, allowing the tears free reign. The pain of earlier was vanishing to a dim memory as he squeezed harder the warm hand in his, and the reconnection of something that was thought lost was made whole again. "Sam you near broke my heart boy today. Don't you dare do this to me ever again – ever, you hear?"

For a moment the elation was so intense at having this special boy back in his life he struggled just to breathe, then his eyes noticed the damage sporting itself on the youngster's tall frame and he was immediately grounded again. "Oh god Sammy…. Look what you've done to your self laddie."

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

There was too much noise. It hurt his ears so much that he was convinced they must be bleeding. Just how much was the eardrum designed to take before rupturing he wondered? It felt like someone had been vicious enough to press his ear to the largest speaker on planet earth blasting out, Abba's Dancing Queen in sickening full volume, the sonic pulse threatening to turn his head into pulp. Why the hell wouldn't it just go away?

_Please anyone, for the love of all things holy, shut frigging Abba off now. Please._

Irritated by the continued screaming wall of 'musik; he opened his eyes to tell the reverberation in skull in no uncertain language to 'fuck the hell up' and let him drift back to sleep. But he had to wake up to do that he reasoned and as unwelcome a thought at that might be he convinced his eyes to open so that he could reach out and turn the off button to that damn boom-box sitting by his head.

On opening his eyes he was met with a wall of runny distorted features, blurry fuzzy faces, all seeming to be shouting out one sound which he eventually managed to decipher as his name 'Dean'.

The blurred images coalesced into one form and he frowned to see A.J. bending over him, a broad smile splitting his less than handsome face, not too ashamed to let his tears fall down his cheeks as he patted his shoulder gently. "Bout time Sleeping Beauty…"

Instantly alert Dean, his memories of the evening returning in a frightened rush as as the insane chorus to 'Dancing Queen' switched off in his skull, he turned his head to either side his heartbeat picking up in panic as he called out for his brother. "Sammy, where's Sammy?"

"They're looking after him and the ambulance has just pulled up." Jennings nodded over to where his brother lay, and through the throng of legs and bent over crew members Dean could just about see the his brother's too still profile.

With a jerk Dean sat straight up ignoring how the world seemed to gyrate in too fast a spin, and shrugged off the supportive hand of the older hunter and crawled over to his brother' side, pushing a few pairs of legs out of the way in the process.

Jennings squatted down to where Dean had taken up watch, noting how carefully the older boy had taken his brother's hand in his and spoke soft whispers of support. "He'll be okay Dean. He's made it so far and with you by his side he's not about to give up the fight."

Dean nodded and looked up appreciatively up at Jennings, his eyes glittering with unshed tears. "Yeah, my crazy little brother is anything but a quitter - he's too freaking stubborn for that, isn't he?"

"Sure looks that way. Must take after his older brother!" Jennings reached past Dean and brushed strong fingers over Sam's forehead, feeling the heat starting to burn his skin with a frown. "You stay with him. I'll go get your dad."

"I'm not going anywhere Professor," snapped back Dean with a genuine smile on his face. "It's sure going to be fun to see the old man's face when he sees what we've pulled outta the rabbit hole this time!"

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

As he started to track his son's stumbling tracks his mind was shutting down, focusing only on the hunt for Dean. It was only the sudden whirr of an ambulance siren cutting through the air, shrill and demanding, that startled John Winchester thoughts back to where the fire crews still attended.

Immediately his thoughts raced ahead of him _Had they found him already, is that why the ambulance was here?_ Above the din he heard A.J. calling his name out loudly and sharply he turned to the sound and run back down the track to where he saw him last.

As he came back into view he could see A.J. frantically waving desperately over at him followed by another shout, "John – hurry."

"Oh god, Dean…!" John cried out under his breath and raced back to where his friend stood, his heart pounding loudly in his chest fearing the worse. Would he really lose both sons today?

An ambulance screaming onto a scene like this always meant bad news.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

As Jennings, with Dean's cocky words still ringing in his ears, strode back to where he left John in the car the scene behind him became measurably busier as the ambulance screaming its presence slammed to a halt by the first fire engine.

With practiced ease the two paramedics jumped into action, parting the small crowd to get to the brothers with all their gear at hand, listening attentively as Chief Braddock tried to outline the situation to them.

"Sweet Jesus" muttered Peter, his mouth falling open at clocking eyes on Dean as he sat by his brother's side fully taking on board what Braddock had just told him like a shock of electricity. "He got out…."

Putting aside their surprise the paramedics quickly assessed the situation, favouring their newest patient over Dean who seemed alert and lucid enough for the moment to wait awhile longer for attention. The youngest clearly needed their attention more now and Janice quickly dropped her kit by the boy's head and took over from Eddie who stepped away with a thankful sigh.

Cutting away the wet shirt Janice shook her head, able clearer to assess the damage done to the boy's shoulder. The blood had trickled to a slow dribble under the constant pressure, but what alarmed her more than the blood loss was that the ugly red edges to a wound showed clear signs of infection, and she wondered silently just what the poor boy had gone through to suffer such damage.

Then her trained eyes scanned over his spoilt ribcage, the mottled skin and indentation to the right side explaining the wet laboured breathing the boy was experiencing.

Wordlessly Janice pulled out a wad of dressings and pressed them over the wound, as Peter checked his vitals. "His pulse is slow and thready, breath sounds are compromised on the right side, and he's lost a lot of blood. The kid is looking shocky."

"He's going to need some O2," she muttered to Pete, wondering what else had gotten to damage his lungs after having to battle his way out of such a fire. The heat from his body already told her enough to say that he was well into the first battle of fighting the infection. "And we need to get some fluids into him stat. We have to move him now."

It wasn't a question, more a demand, and with expert ease they manoeuvred Sam on to the cot hooking up two IV's of saline and plasma.

"He'll be okay, right?" demanded Dean as he staggered after them, determined to remain by his brother's side no matter what. "They can fix this, yes?"

As they hurried back to the ambulance Pete gave the oldest brother a sympathetic nod, "We'll do our best. When he gets to Mercy he'll get the best possible care."

The paramedic noting how Dean's face seemed to light up with renewed confidence and he found himself praying that his kid brother didn't disappoint him. '_It's gonna be a long ride back – lets just hope he stays stable till then.'_ he muttered silently under this breath.

They quickly loaded Sam into the back of ambulance, and Janice stayed by his side hooking him up to various monitors as Peter took charge of Dean and placed him on the adjoining gurney despite his protestations that he was fine. Satisfied that they had done all they could at the scene Peter snapped on the siren and turned the rig around again on an all too familiar journey for that day.

All John Winchester could do as the ambulance sped past him was curse out loud still not really able to take on board what A.J. had been telling him.

_His Sammy was still alive?_

Even considering such an idea seemed ridiculous, absurd, awesome and bloody frightening all in the same breath. After all his boy should be dead as the whole frigging house had fallen on him and then a fire more intense than any demon might have set decided to finish the job. No one, no human, could survive that. Could they? So until he saw it with his own eyes, Sammy alive, he would not play the game of 'half full'.

Sourly he bit his bottom lip thinking on Dean. How much had he failed him today if it was really his brother brought out alive from that house.

He had watched hopelessly as that damned house did its worse to his family. There had been no other choice left open to him but to leave his youngest behind knowing there was no hope? There really hadn't. Had there?

In the pit of his stomach a small nagging fear was growing, germinating into full blown panic, because his logical brain was screaming at him that nothing, but nothing, would have escaped that darkness unless they had already been a familiar visitor to hell itself? How could his boy have survived when nothing else would have?

Forcing himself to ask questions that would need an answer sooner than later, either by the explosion of rock salt or more deadly means, he gave a long shuddering groan of despair. Was it really their Sam that had gotten back to Dean? Or was it something else?

Aaron seemed convinced that it was him, but then the old fool's love for the boy would cloud his judgement always. So he struggled to keep his fears in check as he heard his friend's voice behind him, enthusiastic and excited. "John? Hey are you listening to me? Lets go!"

John managed to find his voice, masking his deep fear with a grunt. "I'll ride back in the Impala A.J. Meet you back there."

Watching with a closed expression he studied the lighter jaunt to his old friend's walk as he reached his car and felt a ripple of anxiety hit him again. It was not just Dean who would be hurt if that second passenger on its way to Mercy was not their Sam.

Now he would be in a race to see who got to the hospital first as he palmed the keys to the impala into his right hand. Whatever came out of that ambulance was not going to be a threat to his Dean. Of that he was certain.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

After a long day the last thing Ham Carnock wanted to do was sit by his police scanner and listen to the familiar chatter across the airwaves. But sleep would not come and the knots in his stomach wouldn't relax. Thankfully Penny had finally gotten off to a fitful sleep and for once he was appreciative of that unique mother –daughter bond that existed between her and his wife helping lift the burden off his shoulder at young Winchester's death.

He cradled a single malt whiskey in the palm of his hand, not yet aged enough to be mellow enough to take away the sting to the back of his throat, and took a long swig when the cackle and hiss of an incoming call made him swallow with a gasp of surprise.

"Oh fucking hell," he gasped out loud. Putting the whiskey tumbler down with a swift clunk he hastily snatched up his car keys, thankful it had only one snifter of whiskey in his glass, and flew out of the house.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

Dean watched his brother all the while back to the hospital afraid that if he took his eyes off him he might vanish again. The cloudy ache that had been pounding the back of his skull was starting to lift and now he could really appreciate the headache thudding away a beat in his head. A handful of aspirin right now sided like a very good idea.

Sam hadn't stirred since their rescue and that frightened him more than all the monitors and lines attached to him beeping their reports. Sam was never so quiet, never so motionless, always even in sleep on the move, and it grated on the nerves to see such stillness.

Ignoring Janice's sharp remand he managed to unbuckle himself off the gurney and slipped over to his brother, before clutching his hand in a reassuring grip.

He spoke softly at first, afraid that the mere sound of his voice would do further damage but as he continued and his brother didn't respond his voice deepened, with a heavier edge until finally he demanded. "So squirt, wanna tell me about this girl you've been seeing, eh? You gotta know nothing gets past big brother radar for long….no matter how clever you think you are."

Maybe it was just a spasm, a nerve connection firing away in his brain, but Dean could have sworn he saw the top lip of his brother lift in a small snarkey sneer. "Oh you bitch," he laughed with relief. "Just what have you been up to little brother?"

"Wouldn't you like to know, jerk!" came a soft whispered response as Sam opened his green-blue eyes followed by a wink. The dark pupils contracted against the bright light of the rig but his gaze remained steady on his older brother as he added. "God Dean you look like shit."

Janice couldn't help but giggle into her chest at seeing the ripple of surprise cross the older brother's face at his brother's sharp return to consciousness, and as she checked the various monitors she couldn't but hope that all was looking ever so slightly sweeter for the Winchester boys as they drew to a halt outside of Mercy Hospitals emergency bay.

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

_**So final chapter / epilogue to come (I sincerely hope) with a tying up of sorts of loose ends, especially those concerning John (he's a full-blown idiot at times) issues, Sam's determination and A.J.'s final act of intervention all to come. Thanks again guys for sticking with me. Roz **_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Usual disclaimers apply. I own nothing about Supernatural. **_

_**Gah - sorry for the late post but a combination of too much work, too little time and a small bout of fluey moments just crippled any efforts to get this posted. It's a little heavy in angst and speak-speak but I couldn't help myself – put it down to too much cold medication and brandy (hmm - lots of brandy!). Hope you will still read and let me know what you think anyways! **_

_**Again as always your reviews have just been such a buzz. Thanks again for your patience, one and all. As before all my unbeta'd mistakes are all mine, and mine alone…damn it!. Roz. **_

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The Effects of Gravity – Part 12 - Falling away 

Pushing back the panic as the ambulance sped away with his sons he sprinted back to where the impala waited. Twisting the car away from the gravel road with a scream of burning tyres he pushed it well past the legal limits to outrun Jennings and all other traffic on the road.

By the time he had raced back into the ER he could hear his oldest son venting his frustration. His vocal disagreement at being ejected from the examination room was making itself heard even before he entered the foyer. "Listen lady, and I use that term loosely here, you have to let me in there. He's my goddam brother and I need to see him now."

John called out and Dean spun round to meet him, and the large solid looking nurse who had been blocking the entrance into the examining room backed off, happy to let him deal with his angry son.

Against the flush of anger on his face his eyes looked haggard and John, whose emotions had been doing flip flops all the way back to the hospital imaging the worse, clamped his son to him in a tight bear hug. "You okay Dean?"

For a moment Dean seemed to resist the contact before relenting and hugging him back, whispering over his shoulder. "I'm fine dad but those stupid idiots won't let see Sam."

"Okay, let me see what I can do." John paused and steeled himself to ask the question that had chased after him all the way back along the highway. "You were certain that it was Sam that got out of that house. Yes?"

Meeting the question with a frown of incredulity Dean pushed himself off his dad, shaking his head in disbelief. "What the hell? Of course it was Sammy. You think I don't know my own brother? I didn't hit my head so hard that I couldn't tell my brother apart from something freaky and unnatural."

Nodding his head in agreement to stop any further arguments John quickly tried to soothe the situation down, anxious to keep Dean calm. "I believe you son, but I had to ask you know that. Right?" he paused adding with a small nervous laugh, "Because damn it to hell you know stranger things have happened to us before. "

"Stranger than having your little brother thought dead only for him to pop up like Alice out of the freaking rabbit hole - don't frigging think so…" scoffed Dean caustically, adding, "Trust our Sam to do something so freaking ridiculous, like survive a fucking earthquake and a million tonnes of bricks and mortar fall on his hard head."

John swallowed hard, nodding his understanding. His youngest was always a surprise too him, offering up a multi spectrumed take on the world around him that he could never see through his ability to only see shades of black and white. And now yet again he was a surprise, surviving when all the laws of nature explicitly told, nay, screamed at him that there was no way he could have survived that wreck of a house.

Daring to let his heart restart again he blew out a deep breath and felt himself shake a little inside. For too long a time today he had let himself believe that his boy was gone, taking a backwards step to watch it all happen, helpless to stop the laws of gravity take what was his from him.

Putting a comforting hand on son's shoulder John leant into him trying to accept that his youngest had survived despite all the day had thrown at him. "He'll be okay Dean. He wouldn't do anything as stupid as to leave you now."

For a moment he paused as his son nodded, confident that his brother, stubborn as hell itself, would carry on fighting. John paused hating to ask but his need to know how badly Sam had been injured couldn't be ignored any longer. "So A.J. said that he'd lost a lot of blood, got banged up more than a little. Just what do I need to know here Dean?"

Green eyes, hollowed with pain, looked back at him, and he watched his son struggle to keep control, though his voice said it all as he replied. "He's pretty busted up dad. That freaky house tore a chunk out of his shoulder, his ribs took a real battering and maybe a lung has been punctured. I don't know more. But he's struggling to breathe and…"

Dean stopped short, as if remembering why he had been standing by the doorway before his dad came along. Pulling himself up straight he stabbed an angry finger at the ER bay that had his brother behind that door. "That's why I've gotta get back in there dad. Sam needs me."

Dean tried to lurch forwards intent on busting into the room that had his brother no matter how rubbery his legs were right now. He would have tried at least but his dad kept him firmly in his grip. "Whoa, take it easy tiger. Sam is a fighter. That much he's proved today. Right?

Sucking in a shaky breath Dean stilled and then nodded. "Yeah that stupid pain-in-the ass brother of mine never knew when to quit or throw in the towel."

The hitch in his voice, betrayed the fact he was close too tears and angrily he tried to tug away from his dad to pull himself together, but his knees started to buckle under him and he found himself in his dad's embrace again.

The day's event had been too demanding and John instinctively steered him over to the nearby seating area and ignoring his protestations made him sit down. "Dean, please, stay here, and I'll go find out what's happening to your brother."

"Why didn't you believe me dad?" called out Dean softly, looking up at him with such an ache in his eyes that John felt trapped by the intensity of his stare. "Why did you give up so easily?"

John took a steadying breath and knew that the levelling of guilt from his son to him was justified. "Your right son, I should have trusted you more. God I knows I screwed up so many times today too many times to count, but can we just leave it for now… let me find out about Sammy first. Okay?"

Dean only response was a small nod and John fighting back his own tears squeezed his son's shoulder in acknowledgement. "I should have believed that with you around anything is possible when it comes to that boy…"

He was rewarded by a broad all knowing grin from his oldest. "Hey man that's what 'big brothers' are all about!

Jennings newly arrived watched the scene unfold and saw the tension easing off both men and felt a moment of hope that their fractured family were finally taking timeout to heal themselves.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

John sat restlessly watching the machines work for his son. The soft hiss of the ventilator as it went up and down felt oddly comforting but the rawness of seeing his youngest look so pale and so damaged, was still too fresh.

The catalogue of injuries appalled him, but at least the doctors were hoping for a full recovery. A collapsed lung, broken ribs, fractured left humerus, blood loss – all were fixable with time. Sam would be fine, he kept telling himself. Just fine.

After a bit of persuasion with John flashing his dimples and sweet talking the nursing staff they had managed to get Dean an adjoining bed and despite his protests that he 'was fine' he went out like a light as soon as his head hit the pillow.

John glanced over at him and couldn't stop a smile touching his lips at noting how ridiculously young he looked in the soft lighting. The dogged look of determination that he had worn all throughout the day was now softened by sleep.

Studying him John was left wondering how it was that his oldest had managed to save his brother when he couldn't. Dean had never given up on his brother whilst all he had done was throw away all hope the moment he thought him lost. And in the process he had let his own heart shatter that even now he doubted would ever heal whole again.

Rubbing his tired eyes he watched them both sleep and yet he couldn't get rid of that gnawing worry in the pit of his stomach, especially for Sam. The boy looked so young, frighteningly so, and he wondered what he had been exposed to in that house.

What horrors had tried to steal away his innocence yet again he wondered, and new fear stole at his thoughts, at what might have tried to touch him alone in the dark?

John Winchester knew that for all his young life Sam had shone like a beacon for the unnatural, perhaps because he had been marked by that damned demon all those years ago. Missouri had hinted at it too many times when he was just a baby to ignore it now.

Although caught up in his thoughts he was still alert enough to hear the soft call coming from Dean's side of the room and his head instantly snapped back to him.

Twisting in his sleep, with half opened eyes Dean gazed sleepily at his brother, muttered his name again, before rolling back on his side drifting back quickly off to sleep, sure in the knowledge that his baby brother was safe once more.

Pushing back the loose strands of hair that fell over his brow John Winchester stood up and pulled a blanket over the bare shoulders of his son and patted his arm lightly proud of what he had achieved today before returning his gaze back to Sam.

Everyone said that his youngest looked more like him than Dean, the dark hair, height and dimples were a dead give away for that.

But there was also a part of Mary in him, the gentleness that he harboured within, to shape and colour of his eyes so much like hers that it hurt to look at him at times. Now he would do anything right now for his son to look at him again with those too pretty eyes with something other than the accusatory glare he had last seen.

Tentatively he reached out to smooth the damp hair away from his son's forehead and took the longest moment to actually study his face. The once rounded face of childhood was disappearing into more angular lines, giving the hint of the of the man to come which he knew that he was ill prepared to meet.

Tracing the soft brow with a gentle finger he paused when Sam's eyes fluttered as if he was about to wake but just like Dean he merely shifted in his sleep and stilled once again.

It had been the longest time since he had dared touch his boy like this. Their constant arguments and lingering sharp words just kept up the barriers between them, pushing them further apart, and the sweet natured child that had once thought him a hero now simply saw him as a restraining hand, a blockage on his path to freedom.

Chewing on his bottom lip he knew that his youngest was charging too quickly into adulthood and it frightened him. And if he had to remain that immovable object in his son's flight path to escape then so be it. He would now block all attempts to let him slip through his fingers again.

There could never be another Farnborough repeat, he admonished himself bitterly, and not for the first time he wondered how he might clip his son's wings, and stop him soaring right past him on this reckless road of rebellion he seemed set upon.

The little boy they had struggled to protect from the dark forces out there was becoming too bright and visible to ignore. So now no matter what it took he would keep on pushing Sam to fall in to line, to keep him safe under his umbrella, under his control. Somehow he would learn to clip his wings and ground him back down to earth.

Today he had given up on his boy and failed him miserably and it was a mistake that he didn't know if he could ever repair the damage it had caused. Fighting against the intense sting of tears that burnt the back of his eyes he needed to touch his boy again, as if to press his finger tips against the heat radiating off Sam's face for forgiveness.

"_How did I ever allow this to get so out of control? When did I start to lose you so completely?"_

With a trembling sigh he hooked his fingers into Sam's too long hair pushing it back around his ears and then traced a pattern on his cheek as he had once done when Sam had been a fretful baby. With a soft release of air he gave up a sigh and bent over and kissed his forehead, not quite remembering the last time he had been able to touch him like this. Too long a time he realised sadly.

"I'm sorry son. I'm sorry that I'm not the father that you so desperately want me to be," he stopped as if waiting for his lad to look back up at him but Sam remained in the deepest sleep.

"Why does it always have to be this struggle with us? Why can't I reach you the way I do Dean. With him it has always been so easy. But with you son half the time I have no idea what's going on in your head. No idea at all…. and it scares me."

Maybe it was the tone of his words or just his touch but sea-green eyes slowly opened and looked back up at him. John froze and willed himself to remain still, although the thudding of his heart beat loudly in his ears.

His mouth went dry, the need to flee from his child felt overwhelming as he saw the lack of warmth in his son's unforgiving gaze.

It was the same dark look that had stared back at him at Farnborough, flickering in his boy's eyes like an extra wound. Any familiar connection they might have once shared seemed broken and lost.

Trying to push down the barriers being instantly erected by his son John reached out to embrace him, only to see him push himself away physically back into the bed, shrinking away from his touch, from him.

Then the coldness in Sam's eyes vanished abruptly as fear took hold, his pupils wide and black as consciousness brought back the pain and with it the memories.

Tears threatened to fall as the sensation of being unable to breathe returned, and he struggled to pull himself off the ventilator, his inhalation stuttering as his agitation grew. Desperately he wanted to scream out for his brother but his vocal chords were frozen, and the only thing he could see was the dark glowering form of his father.

John at seeing his struggles snaked out a firm hand and pulled Sam's hand away from the tubing in his throat, his voice heavy and coming out like a bark, harsher than he intended. "Stop it boy. Calm yourself down."

Sam as usual chose to ignore his order and as his panic rose ever higher the machines upped their tunes and various beeps and alarms sounded off as he tussled against his father's touch.

It felt as if he was trapped under all that rubble again and the memory overwhelmed him and he struggled to take in a breath. Frightened by the tightness in his chest his eyes swept the room for a familiar face, and there it was, his brother, suddenly by his side, alert to his distress offering calming words and suddenly he was able to drag in air again. He was able to feel safe again.

"It's okay Sammy. It's okay, " promised Dean placing a calm hand in his and squeezed it hard in support. "Just relax, don't fight the machine, let it do the work little brother."

Effectively pushed aside John watched how his youngest settled almost instantly as Dean spoke soothing words, the older boy parking himself on the edge of the bed so that he could feel him next to him. You would never have guessed that he been sound asleep, dead to the world, only thirty seconds back.

Stepping to the rear John felt suddenly very redundant and the pang of guilt that it was Dean that could help Sam and not him cut deep. He felt further pushed aside when the duty nurse came into the room alerted by the alarms still beeping their urgency in the room.

Her crisp efficiency was at odds with the churning whirlwind of emotions that threatened to smother John and he slipped silently out of the room. The blood in his veins were running cold at how Sam had reacted to him. Not for the first time that day he experienced a sensation of loss that he didn't know how to recover from.

Propping himself against the wall outside the room he felt utterly drained. To old and weary of the battlefront he had set his sons and himself on, but unable to escape the fate that this road was taking them on. Then cold reality of why they lived this life kicked straight back in, and he knew that he had to keep on going, no matter what. For Mary's sake there was no turning back.

So damn the price they were paying, damn that fucking demon and, yes, damn his own soul to hell but couldn't give up now. It had already cost him too much to quit.

Squaring himself up straight again he snorted in disgust at himself, letting his fears weaken him when the time had come to be rock solid. He should be steeling himself for the battle to come with his youngest, not running from it. Already he could see him losing the game if he didn't get things right this last final time.

Sam could hate him all he liked he acknowledged, but as long as he had him by his side he could live with that. Given time he could bend him to him again, get him back from this teenage funk that he seemed to so intent on inhabiting.

He would get him back on focus, feeling that now it was time to get him back on track to their world of hunting and stop those moments when the boy drifted off to live in those head-in-the-clouds moments of demanding normal.

No, he told himself firmly, this time he would make sure that Sam was fully prepared, ready for the next hunt despite himself.

**o0o0o0o0o0o**

Jennings studied him with hooded eyes from the shadows of the Nurses Station and could sense the determination swallowing the oldest Winchester whole rippling like a wave over him.

He seemed to grow another foot, his head held high as if he had won some inner battle and was readying himself for the next round. And that no doubt involved Sam and he felt a moment of anxiety for the boy.

Sometimes when he looked at the man he felt a little afraid of him, and more than a little afraid for his boys. His drive to destroy anything below the line of white, dipping into the black, spoke of an unquenchable appetite to main, hurt and obliterate. And he didn't seem to worry about the consequences to anything or anyone around him.

This time round those consequence were that he had almost lost both his boys.

At times in John Winchester he could see the desolate man that he might have become if he had not had Martha to keep him bound to the right path.. The loss of Efram and James could have so easily have left him as cold and as driven as his friend. So, he wondered, if he had Martha to keep his heart whole why is that John couldn't have done the same because of Dean and Sam.

At times when he watched him slip into hunter mode, discarding that little bit of humanity that kept him connected to the good around him he wished he could just let go of the hatred that burned at his soul and stopped him from treasuring what he still had.

He had his boys back and still there was no elation to be seen on his face. Only the reckless determination to resume where he had just left off.

The bastard would lose it all again before the end, but this time round he be damned if he let him take Sam with him.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Taking advantage of the fact that Dean had slipped out to go home to get clean clothes and take a breather in his marathon watch over his brother John Winchester finally felt free to talk to his youngest, and ask those questions that had niggling at him for the last few days.

"Come on Sam why are you being so evasive. Just tell me what happened in there. How did you get out? I need to know," demanded the father of his son.

Sam snorted a little empty laugh unable to keep up the pretence that everything was fine between the two of them anymore "Well not with your help old man that's for sure. Hell you made that abundantly clear when you did your little disappearing act on me - thanks by the way."

Masking his own ache at the glib way his son threw his guilt back in his face, he was still determined to find out just how Sam defied the impossible. Something had happened with his boy that day. He could see the change in him and he was struggling to hold on to him the only way he knew how - by sheer brute force of will.

But what had started out as a simple Q & A moment was escalating into a full fledge war of sharp words. And new damage was being done.

"You know son you can keep telling me what a bastard of a father I have been, and hands up yes that I am at times, but you still have to tell me what happened down there. If I don't I won't know how to protect you if …"

Sam cut in angrily. "Protect me? That's a joke, right? Because you've exposed Dean and me to all the bad ass demons and monsters of this world on your quest to kill and destroy anything supernatural out there that I think the last thing on your mind is to protect. Hell both Dean and I have the scars to prove it."

"Don't smart mouth me boy, I've always done my best by you, so just answer the goddam question. How did you get out of there? " As he snapped out his response, John winced inwardly at the authoritarian tone he was taking yet again with his youngest.

He was pushing for answers and in the process was alienating his son even further but Sam was somehow different and it freaked him out to not know what had happened to his boy in that fucking house.

If this had been Dean in the bed he would have had the whole picture by now, relayed like the perfect soldier he had become, quick concise and not sparring in the detail. Sam was hiding something, that much he could guess, but he couldn't get him to open up to him.

Just when he thought he should back down and get Dean to try to break down his walls of silence Sam responded to his last question.

"You want to know what happened. Hmm let me think. Oh yes now I remember, I developed super powers and blasted my fucking way out. Pretty impressive even by my second rate standards if I don't mind admitting."

Sam even gave him a knowing wink and John face mottled at his nerve. "Watch your mouth. This is not a game, do you understand boy? I need the truth."

"Sir, Yes, SIR. Don't want you to slap my behind for speaking disrespectful now, would I. Second class fuck up of son gotta know his place. Right?" Snapped back Sam with a mock salute his eyes suddenly bright and his cheeks darkening as his breath started to hitch in his throat.

"Stop being such a fucking drama queen Sam," answered John forgetting just how sick his son had been, forgetting the reason why he was wired up to all those monitors as he clawed his way back to a recovery.

His focus had been getting the truth out of his youngest and didn't yet see the effect that quest was having on his boy.

Jennings did, the moment he stepped back in the room and saw the badgering presence of his old friend browbeat the boy. With a little too much anger behind it he pushed back John away from Sam's bed flashing him a look of contempt before turning his attentions back to the boy noting with alarm how he gasped to draw in air.

Sam had paled to a chalky white, the pain in his chest growing incrementally as the battle to draw oxygen continued. Jennings took his hand and demanded softly, "It's okay laddie, just take as few small breaths. Don't upset yourself like this."

'Shit' realised John too late noting how his son breathing started to catch tight in his chest again, 'Why do I keep on doing this to the boy?"

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

"Your one hell of a screwed up bastard, you know that Winchester," snarled Jennings his fist near the younger man's face threatening violence. The only thing holding him back from punching his lights out was the worry that Sam might find out about the bloodletting and damn it the boy had been through enough already despite what the idiot in front of him thought.

God if that has been his boy he would have been praising him instead of tearing him too shreds for daring to survive when by all accounts he should not have. What a fucked up mindset was that?

John at being confronted by an angry Jennings simply snorted and batted his fist away, but had enough sense to back away from the raging man. "I had to make sure that he was still Sam, not some freaking cuckoo in the next." Adding with a fractured laugh. "And by the sassy response I can tell you that was all Sam in there."

Jennings face grew darker, and he hissed his disappointment. "You just don't get it do you, you fucked up moron. You have Sam back and still you can't be happy with that. The kid deserves your respect for getting out of the place but all you can do is doubt him and question his ability to survive."

He continued and stabbed a sharp finger into his chest to ram his point home, "He stayed alive despite of you John, and that's what so frustrating for you isn't it? That he made it out when his asshole of a father left him behind to die."

John visibly blanched under the verbal attack. "There was no choice and you damn well know that. I would have lost both my sons…."

"No - what you feared most that day was losing Dean." snapped back Jennings, the venom on his tongue starting to make its mark as John flinched again.

Defensively John countered. "You don't know what the hell your talking about old man. I've always treated both my sons the same."

Jennings gave a derisive laugh. "Yeah, go and ask Sam what he thinks about that.- you may not like the answer."

Running a hand through his long fringe he exhaled a long sigh, adding. "You've always favoured Dean, encouraged him to become just like you and you never had any room to deal with Sam because he dares to be other than his brother. Worse is the fact that the only time you give him attention is to tell him he was never good enough, never quite like Dean to have any worth in your eyes."

John hissed back dangerously, "Your talking out of your backside A.J and you know it. All this crap about me playing favourites with Dean is just that – crap. "

"Is it? You know you've tried to mould Sam into being his brother's clone all his life, but the kid sure is stubborn, isn't he, and refuses to break. Not even the all mighty John Winchester has been able to destroy that boy's ability to be his own person. You have been one fucked up dad to those boys."

John lunged forwards and pushed Jennings hard against the cement wall of the underground car park, his features marred in anger. "Don't you dare tell me how to raise my sons," answered John with a low growl.

Inwardly though as he pushed Jennings away he was fighting down his fear that if the man asked it of Sam he would go with Aaron without a backward glance. "And stay away from Sam from now on, stop filling his head with all your fancy talk."

Brushing himself away from John the older man laughed softly. "So it's fancy talk to think of him having a future. Doing something other than hide in your shadow? That kid has to much potential to remain two steps behind you all his life Winchester."

"What gives you the right to tell him to leave his family and go off to college? He's my son and I'll bloody raise him as I see fit…."

Pushing his tall frame off the wall he towered back over John and bent down to meet him eye to eye, cold anger settling in the pit of his stomach. "You didn't raise Sam, Dean did and thank god he did because things would be even more screwed up than they are now."

"That's a lie old man. You're making it sound all bad. I did my best with those boys, they know it, I know it." He paused adding viciously, "At least I've trained them to fight back, and not die at the first hurdle. At least I sill have my boys around for the hunt….."

He didn't see the punch coming, the speed of the fist hitting his jaw knocked him backwards and he slid back to hit the wall with a small thud. Working his jaw loose he fingered the tender spot on his right jaw line and looked back at the irate Jennings.

He didn't want to fight the man, not in such a public setting with too many potential witnesses, and in a way he knew he deserved the punch using his boys death to hurt him like that. But damn it he was hurting too. Letting him use Sam against like that was just not fair.

His voice deepening as tried to calm the situation down, disturbed at just how crazy this whole conversation had gone since they'd left the confines of the hospital building. Standing still in the almost empty parking lot, he tried to baton down the guilt eating away at him, aware of some of the truth of Jennings words that could not be so easily dismissed or forgotten.

"Okay A.J. your angry so I'll let you have that one." he answered with a humourless laugh. "Hell, we've both been pushing each others buttons here. Still old man let me remind you about one thing here. Sam is my son. Not yours."

"And that makes you an even worse father. Having two sons and playing favourites all the time with them. You're screwing them both up royally."

"Yeah like you've never played favourites with Sammy," snapped back John. " What about Dean though? Is he not good enough on your little scholastic geek club that you two have going on here?" adding with a belittling laugh, " What do you want to do here old man? Facilitate a 'Grab and Snatch" of Sam in his P.J's? Not gonna happen unless you get Dean too. They're a package deal remember."

"If I could get Dean to come with me I would, but you broke that part of him that makes him independent a long time ago." The thought of being able to take Sam or his brother with him soared high within, a secret dream he had held for a long time but knew that John Winchester would never make real.

With a cutting laugh John could almost taste the man's need and answered. "No what you don't understand old man that Dean is my right hand man and Sam follows him no matter what. I'll have both my boys riding shotgun in a year or two. Just watch and see."

Aaron shook his head sadly, feeling a measure of guilt that he had never stepped in before and stopped John from doing so much damage to his boys when he had first met the driven ruthless hunter.

Squashing down the violence on his tongue he answered. "You really think that is going to happen? You won't be able to keep Sam under your thumb the way you do Dean. And you want to know why? Because he's not afraid of you anymore and your losing control of him bit by bit now. Scary stuff to a big control freak like you eh?"

John's eyes were dark and angry now at the nerve Jennings had just hit, and he wanted to wound Jennings as much as he could now and he went in for the kill. "I'll say it again old man – at least my boys are still _alive_ under _my_ _control_."

"At least I've made sure that my boys know what's out there and how to deal with it. If it wasn't for my training him all those years Sam wouldn't have gotten out of the house and you know it. Perhaps if I had a chance to 'mould' your boys then they too would still be alive…"

Jennings stilled and bitterness seeped into his tired bones, realising that whatever chance of keeping their friendship ongoing was now well and truly over and done with. His ice cold response chilled the air around them. "No what you fail to understand is that that boy, Sam, is alive despite of you."

Jennings then drew himself up, impossibly tall, his blues eyes too dark read as he added. "Let me ask you this then you bastard, if that had been Dean down that cellar and not Sam would you have left him behind like that? Would you have just walked away from him without a word?"

The look of panic that rippled across John's face gave him his answer.

With a snort of disgust Jennings lurched as far away from him as he could, not trusting himself not to throw another punch he so dearly wanted to throw and instead added as he strode away. "When he walks away from you one day John just remember that you caused it all to happen. It's too late for Dean, and God knows I should have helped him sooner but your not going to destroy Sam too. You don't fucking deserve that right anymore."

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

_**A.N. Sorry I really do promise a final chapter up by this weekend. Just tweaking it a bit more, and felt I couldn't fit it all in with this one or you poor guys would be on a major yawn fest! And of yes the lovely Penny makes an appearance to lighten it all in the final chapter. **_


	13. Chapter 13

**Usual disclaimers etc. Sorry for the late update but my broadband went down and only came back online today! Seriously went into major withdrawal mode and now find myself playing catch up on all those deliciosuly fine stories out there. Just hope you take a moment to read this final chapter and add your pennies worth...!!! Roz.**

**The effects of Gravity**

**Chapter 13 - The long goodbye**

It felt good to be able to sit up again as the tightness around his chest now had peaked beyond excruciating discomfort to more manageable, albeit opiate relieved, levels. His breathing had evened out, even after his little attack last night, and it looked like he could still make good his escape by Thursday despite what the doctors might think.

Now was the time to keep a level head, he kept telling himself, and not let his dad stop his progress. And as much as he would have liked to he was not going to aggravate the situation by leaping out of bed to beat a bedpan around his dad's head next time they met up. So, he repeatedly told himself, he could do calm when needed.

Now the most demanding task at hand was the green jello fighting its way off the spoon for the third trip in a row, and with a frustrated sigh he decided to spare the green stuff its fate and pushed the tray away his appetite already waning.

Still jello wasn't the most important thing on his mind right now. After his run in with his dad yesterday he was grateful for the time just to think. Dean had gone home late last night and wasn't due back till midday, and for once not even the nursing staff were around to fuss over him. Being alone meant that he could get things a little clearer in his head, and try to get his game up to scratch before the evitable second round with his dad commenced.

Resignedly he brushed the hair out his eyes and drew in a small shaky breath realising miserably that no matter what explanation he gave his dad it was going to lead to more confrontation and trouble. Dad already had little to no faith in him. Perhaps it was justified, because it didn't matter what he did he was never going to measure up in his eyes to Dean. He just didn't have that level of trust in him that he shared with his brother.

It was a painful acknowledgment and a for a second his breath hitched in his throat into a tight squeeze, but he could do stubborn when needed and refused to give into the luxury of tears right now. If he allowed himself such a visible failing it would only belittle him even further to his dad's eyes and he was fed up as being viewed as weak.

Bitterly he realised that even after surviving that damned house he still hadn't he proved himself enough to that man. He couldn't but help ask the question that would it had been so hard for him to even look at him with some enthusiasm and say 'Good job son in keeping yourself alive.' But it was obvious that he hadn't expected him to live, that much he was sure off.

_Couldn't even do dying on cue for him when expected it appeared_.

Giving off a flash of dimples at the idea, Sam sported a brief sour smile. '_Strike one for Sam Winchester_.' he thought cynically, because despite all the odds once again here he was very much alive.

He sniggered humourlessly again, remembering bitterly on how on his second day in the hospital, on coming out of the craziest of dreams, to hear a familiar voice muttering 'Christo' by his bedside as if expecting him to self combust at the word.

'_Ha!'_ he remembered wanting to shout out loud at his dad when nothing happened but being a little too fogged up with drugs and half sleep to voice it out loud. "_Ha, fucking, ha!"_

That his dad could think of him being something freaky and possessed was just plain unnerving. What was worse was that his dad had literally screamed his thoughts out loud with that one whispered word and that hurt even more. Why couldn't his dad just accept the fact that for once this hadn't been his screw up and that he had made it out despite it all? Why couldn't he just be proud of him for once?

As he stewed in his bed Sam knew that it would easier for him if he gave into to his dad again. It would be the easiest path to just him win the battle of wills by telling him about David, perhaps by doing so affording him some justification about his suspicions and thoughts since making it out alive. But, no, this time he was determined to hang on to a little bit of self respect and pride in what he had managed to do and so he was determined to keep his silence about what had happened in that damned hous.ese.

David was his secret to keep and he reasoned why muddy the waters even further by letting his dad know that something supernatural had helped save him?

Telling him that he had had his own personal Casper wouldn't earn him any brownie points. Predictably he could guess his dad's reaction the moment he mentioned the word 'ghost'. Oh, yeah, he'd freak out for sure, immediately labelling his helper as something evil and unnatural and that's not how Sam wanted to remember the boy.

All he knew was that a small frightened child named David had reached out to him, and shared with him an experience and connection that he knew that his dad would never understand or accept.

Already on the bottom rung of the ladder of respect as it was Sam knew that confessing to his dad about David would do him no good at all. It would only he cause further sarcastic put downs and a reaffirmation of his low status in the Winchester hunting unit.

He knew that the whole Farnborough experience had been a chance to focus back again on what he really desired. David had shown him that not all things could be viewed in black and white and in the crazy screwed up life of the Winchesters the fact that he owed a ghost his life had to mean something. May be it was a kind of balance being restored in this demon-hunting world of theirs that his dad kept insisting they walk on.

Maybe David and all that went with it was meant to remind him about living and not just about following orders.

So he gave the deepest sight, realising that although the blinkers had been lifted off his eyes with the strange encounter with the supernatural the blinkers still remained attached to his dad and in man ways his own brother. For now he realised it was wisest to keep his firmly shut and keep the memory of David inside of him.

Perhaps later he could tell Dean. Perhaps he might understand. And then again perhaps one day his dad might hold him tight and tell him that for once he did well. Perhaps that was the day freaking day pigs might fly.

Blinking back the warmth of fresh tears he was comforted that at least David and Katie had found some kind of peace, denied to them for too long a time. They had needed each other so badly, just like he had needed Dean.

A genuine broad smile split his face thinking just about his big brother. The words awesome and fantastic just seemed so inadequate when he looked at him now. His brother had been the only one not willing to give up on him, and he at least had had faith in him. Some day he was determined to prove to his dad that Dean had been right all along – that it had been worth the effort in believing in him just this once.

His eyes tracked back to the green jello on his try and flicked it over with a satisfying splat, watching it jiggle and wobble before stilling and knew that it just about summed up his relationship with is dad right now.

Very wobbly indeed.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

A small call of his name woke him from a hazy dream and his eyes as they focused soon lit up at seeing A.J. sitting by his bed. It was late morning he realised as the sunshine streaming through the window bathing the room in a bright fresh light

"Hey Sam, how you doing?" asked Jennings in his deep gravely voice, patting the boy's hand gently, as Sam roused himself from sleep. He hadn't wanted to wake him from such a deep sleep but he knew that it was best that he said his goodbyes before John showed up again.

"I'm doing good Professor. Really good." replied Sam with a cheerful grin using the controls on his bed to raise himself to sitting position. "They said if I keep this up I can go home on Thursday. With a little bit more R & R I'll be fighting fit again. You just wait and see."

"So no lasting damage eh?" asked Jennings, noting how quickly Sam had understood that the question had been about his reaction last night as he nodded quickly.

"No, it's still all good," he paused. "And thanks for stepping in like that last night. I knew that he was getting angry but I couldn't stop myself and…"

"No need to explain son. I just wish that I could stay around a little longer, but I'm needed back at Berkley." He winced at seeing the shadow in the boy's eyes appear. "You know that I would stay if I could?"

Sam nodded, biting his bottom lip against his disappointment. "It's okay. I'm just really glad that you were here. You've been great." Struggling to keep his voice level Sam added. "Just wish that you'd come back because of something more positive than watching me getting my behind physically and verbally smacked again."

"From where I've been standing Sam you gave back as good as you got, if not more in the verbal stakes." Jennings laughed at the confused expression take on the boy's too young face. "It was good to see you stand up for yourself like that yesterday, that's all I'm saying."

"Don't think my dad would agree with you somehow A.J."

With a low growl Jennings gripped his shoulder again, locking eyes with his young protégé. "Listen son, I know I'm supposed to be the adult here but sometimes your dad just brings out the worse in a person. Giving him a verbal kick up the backside may well do him some good."

And even the odd smack or two might have helped get his point home he told himself silently. At least he hoped so for the boy's sake. If not Sam and John would be on a collision course in the future that neither one of them would escape the fallout from.

Sam sighed and asked softly. "You and dad have had a falling out, haven't you? Was it because of me? That's why you're going, isn't it?"

"Yeah well listen here Sam none of this was of your making. Your stubborn father could have a falling out with God himself if the mood took him."

Sam nodded his understand and Jennings demanded quietly of the boy at noticing the too bright glint to his eye which surely must be reflected in his own. "Promise me son that you'll keep in touch."

When Sam didn't answer Jennings squeezed his good shoulder again gently adding. "I'll always be there for you Sam. Always. When the need arises just don't forget that. Okay?"

Sam swallowed back his emotion and mutely nodded, his hand covering the grizzled hand of his mentor in a quick grab as if to stop him from leaving. "I sometimes think that I shouldn't expect so much from you." He lowered his voice to a tight whisper adding, "Thank you for believing in me Professor."

_Thank you for offering that lifeline._

As if reading his thoughts Aaron smiled in return, not ashamed to the let the tears roll down his cheeks. "Lad, that's the easiest thing in the world for me to do. You just have to believe in your own worth Sam. Don't let anyone, _anyone_, tell you otherwise."

_Especially that idiot father of your. Don't let him screw you up like he has Dean. Stay true to yourself son. Don't stop them from letting me help you._

With a final pat, and a quick brushing away of his tears, Jennings nodded at Sam, a small smile playing on his lips that they had an understanding, a trust that wouldn't be broke by anything John Winchester might do next.

"Stay in touch laddie and keep yourself safe." He drew himself away from Sam's side, his heart breaking at walking away from him like this but the bad blood between him and John meant that he couldn't stay. Taking a final deep breath he walked to the door, feeling Sam's eyes following after him, before pausing in the doorway and turned a final time and gave him a small nod. " See you soon Sam."

Sam watched the door close behind his tall frame and felt his heart stutter at the loss. Soon was too long a wait. With A.J. gone all he had left was to wait for the return of his brother with his dad in tow. And meeting up with his dad again was going to be so much fun!

The knock on his door so soon after A.J.'s departure caught him by surprise and he cranked his head up to see the bulky form of Sheriff Carnock in the door way, before the slim figure of Penny sped past him and raced over to his bed. Before he could even think to say her name her arms wrapped around him in a tight hug and the air felt like it was being driven out of his lungs again. With a muffled gasp and a small grunt of pain he managed to reach out his own good arm and hugged her in return.

For a good long second all he could think of was how delicious she smelt, his face burying into her long fragrant hair as she whispered her relief in his ear. For the longest time back at Farnborough he doubted he'd ever see her again but now here she was by his side, as pretty and as gregarious as ever. Life could be good at times, he reminded himself with a deep sigh as she clung to him wrapped in her perfume.

"You scared me to death Sam Winchester" admonished Penny through her tears of joy. "I thought…." She was unable to voice her fears, her throat constricting tight at the memories of how she had once thought him lost to her. Instead her fingers twisted into his with her unspoken fears, pushing her forehead against his to facilitate an understanding against her inability to speak.

"I'm sorry Penny." Sam whispered in return and then felt the familiar touch of her lips on his as she made her relief known. Her lips were hard, meeting his with a desperate need and despite the tugging on his wounds or her weight against him it was too enjoyable to ever want it to stop.

Sheriff Carnock's eyes had widened at the passion his daughter displayed in front of him. Was this really his baby girl who only a few years ago would have rather died a death of embarrassment at the thought of kissing a boy, but who was now swallowing the Winchester lad's whole face off in front of him?

When on earth had his little girl grown up to be this young woman, he wondered. Still his eyes noting that the kid was still hooked up to a slew of machines coughed out loud. "Penny give the boy some air, before you have all the doctors rushing back in again as all those pesky alarms go off."

"Oh Sam, are you okay? Did I hurt you? responded Penny fearfully as she drew away from Sam her eyes noticing all the wires he was hooked up to as if they were snakes readying to bite back.

Taking a shaky breath Sam shook his head and reached out to pull her back to him, though in a gentler embrace than the over enthusiastic one of before. "It's so good to see you Pen." He paused, noting that her dad was still standing in the door way and gave him a polite nod. "Sir."

Clearing his throat the Sheriff nodded in return, just pleased that this time the boy had been awake for their visit and was able to see his daughter. Having to take his daughter home in tears yesterday because the boy had still been too medicated to see her had been hard. Now in the space of a day the kid was sitting up and looking decidedly improved, and judging by his reactions was as equally pleased to see Penny as she was of him.

"How are you doing?" he asked politely noting the colour on the boy's cheek and wondered if that the last vestige of a fever or just the close proximity of his daughter.

At the back of his mind he was screaming a denial about the possibilities of their relationship being more than just mere 'kisses' and made a mental note to remind his wife to have another of her little chats with Penny – sooner rather than later.

Sam never got the chance to answer the Sheriff as the door swung open and Dean and his dad traipsed in. For an awkward moment there was a shocked silence as the three standing men eyed each other up and down.

Sam cringed, noting the all too familiar sour look on his dad's face at seeing the local Sheriff in his room and with Penny still sitting on his bed he knew that the game was up. He could only guess the tongue-lashing he was going to get later. Yesterday he guessed would seem like a walk in park by the time his dad got through with him later.

Worse still was the knowing sneer on Dean's eyes on clocking eyes on Penny and whatever colour had been on Sam's cheeks deepened to a dark blush.

Plopping himself down on the other side of the bed his brother cocked a charming smile at the teenage girl who smiled back weakly. "So you must the girl that I've heard nothing about? Pleased to meet you I'm sure. I'm Dean his older and more handsome brother."

Penny giggled under his scrutiny and gave him her name with a blush. He winked in return and cheerily he dropped into his brother's lap a packet of gummies. "Looks like you're going to need them more than I do. Gotta keep your strength up somehow little brother."

Sam groaned out loud at his brother's glibness and glanced a quick look at Sheriff Carnock and could see the same unimpressed look on his face that his dad sported.

Dean and his dad were not the type of men you introduced to your girlfriend's dad without good planning and forewarning.

'Oh. Yeah', he muttered to himself, '_he was well and truly screwed and may not live to see his seventeenth birthday – yet again!'_

The fact that this particular girlfriend's dad was the local Sheriff didn't help his cause one bit at all and he could see the dark eyes of his father hooding over as he reached out a hand to politely shake Carnock's hand. By the tone of their rather cagey introductions he could feel the tension in the air increasing.

Worse still was that his adorable gullible Penny, was totally oblivious to the escalating testosterone levels of the two alpha males eyeing one another, and bounced excitedly on his bed offering up a welcome smile to his dad. "Hey Mr Winchester, Sam has told me so much about you. I'm so happy to meet you at long last."

"Like wise" smiled back John dangerously, casting a knowing look over at his youngest. "Sam certainly has kept you under wraps for far too long."

'_Oh god, can I die now. Please_.' begged Sam inwardly, wilting under the full scrutiny of both pairs of eyes of the older Winchester men. He just knew he was so going to be ripped into shreds later and would sooner get it over and done with.

The law and the Winchesters were never a good combination, and he guessed if he looked in the John Winchester 'Do it my way or Else' little book of rules he must have broken a dozen or so in dating Penny. So, yes, judging by the snarkey looks thrown his way by his dad, he was in trouble big time. Again.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Dean watched and waited for his brother to wake up moulding his solid frame into the hard plastic chair as best he could. Sam was doing just fine, he kept telling himself, ignoring the pain it brought to his gut every time he allowed himself to think on the reasons how and why his brother was lying in that bed.

It felt strange looking at the too still form of his brother but at least he was here getting better with each new day. Whatever angel he had hovering by his shoulder at Farnborough had served him well, and for that he would be eternally grateful. His and dad's mistakes had almost let them lose Sammy. Next time he would listen just a little bit more carefully at everything Sam had to say before a hunt. This lesson was one he was not going to forget in a hurry.

He chewed on his bottom lip, wondering how he would react to his father not being here this morning. Yesterday had been too weird to want to deal with it in repeat form today, so he was just glad that dad had come up with a half decent excuse last night and had not come with him to the hospital this morning.

He couldn't help but admire his brother's barefaced cheek at not only hooking up with the local cop's daughter but also the way he had kept it hidden from them from the get go. The crafty little bugger would need closer watching from now he realised, not wanting another fast one pulled on them like that again. It was just plain embarrassing to have his big brother radar undermined like that.

As he waited for Sam to wake up he acknowledged with a smirk the fact that his little brother wasn't such an innocent anymore, especially with the girls. Still, judging how that little Penny kept herself permanently draped over him last night he must have been doing something right. He must have inherited a few more of the Winchester charm genes than he had given him credit for in the past.

That little talk he had been hinting at to his brother about girls and their effect now seemed a little redundant. Sam had gotten it all figured out by himself and had been juggling this little relationship along with everything else so skilfully it couldn't have been his first try. It just proved a fact to Dean that he had always known and that was Sam was always way too goddam advanced.

As he waited for his brother to wake up he couldn't help but smile at recollecting their dad's reaction at him and the Sheriff playing happy families last night. Sweet Jesus the look on their dad's face had been priceless and he was more than a little surprised that the much anticipated tongue lashing didn't take place when the girl and her father left later on.

Now that had been weird and he could tell that Sam felt the same way, just as astonished by the taciturn silence that followed from their dad. It felt unnatural. As if the man was fighting his own inner demons down to keep the barely veiled civility between him and his brother from breaking down completely.

Just what was going on between the two of them was really staring to niggle now and neither one of them were saying anything so all he could do was guess it was something to do with what happened at Farnborough.

Given time he knew he would be able to beat it out of Sammy in some form or another. Sam could never keep a secret from him - well he had liked to think that was the case until Penny came onto the scene.

With a grin he leant forward and picked up the orange juice from his brother's breakfast tray eyeing the cereal bowl hungrily and whispered a warning. "Better wakeup soon sunshine or you're gonna miss the best meal of the day!"

His brother's eyes opened lazily and met his grin with his own. "Touch my Lucky Charms big brother and your dead."

Dean gave him a silly grin as he popped the first marshmallow into his mouth. "I don't suppose Penny has any problems getting to your 'Lucky Charms' though does she Sammy?"

He had the grace to blush. "Jerk."

Dean just laughed, popping another piece of his brother's cereal into his mouth. It felt good again to be able to bitch with his brother.

**o0o0o0o0o0o0o**

John flinched as Dean sauntered back into kitchen with half a cup of coffee to knock back. For a boy who had his head smacked around to a severe concussion and had spent the last few days watching his younger brother get back to oxygen drawing fitness he was looking pretty good.

Gone were the dark shadows under his eye or the waking moments of panic wondering how his brother was. The dark fears that had once crippled him were now being replaced by that all too familiar swagger that only his oldest son possessed.

For Dean he couldn't keep the exuberance out of his step, his whole body screamed relief that his brother was coming home today and that it just felt so right that he couldn't keep a big grin of his face.

"Hey dad its time to go pick up Sam," pressed Dean, draining the last bitter dregs of his coffee quickly.

It would be good to have the kid back home again, as the house had been too damn quite without his little brother's quirky ways to fill it. He looped the car keys in his finger and twirled then around waiting impatiently for his dad to follow.

John Winchester looked over at his eldest and saw the how happy the boy was and sighed. A call that morning had changed his plans and he had put off telling Dean that he was on his way out to another job. "Look Dean you're gonna have to pick up Sam by yourself today. Something has come up."

Dean cocked a knowing eyebrow at him. "A job?"

"Yep. Caleb's been hunting a bad infestation of black dogs over in Montana. I can't leave him to it. The young idiot is more than likely to blow his foot off left alone than bag a hound, so…."

"Sure, dad, I understand. I can go get Sammy by myself – no problem," answered Dean. He didn't realise he had been holding his breath until the sigh escaped. "You going to call Sam to let him know before you go? Or do I tell him?"

John shook his head. "It would be better coming from you son. I've already signed all the paperwork. All you've got do is pick him up."

John paused, a frown knitting his forehead at remembering seeing his youngest fast asleep early that morning before he snuck back home. To his eyes Sam still looked too fragile and he knew that he in some part was the cause of that. '_I'll make it good with him'_, he promised himself determinedly. In Montana he'd pull his family back together, just give it time he told himself. Sammy would come round eventually. He had to.

Breaking free of his thoughts John finally he added. "Dean, just keep him safe and when he's well enough follow me out to Montana. Okay?"

With a deep sigh he rubbed his fingers over his chin, eyeing the crummy apartment for the last time. "Sam's is not going to be happy about moving again Dean. Think you can cope with the tantrums to come?"

"I'll sit on him if he gets too snippety, so don't worry about Sammy dad he'll be okay," lied Dean and knew that his dad was making his great escape before the fireworks exploded. Sam was going to be mightily pissed that much he was sure off. The promise from his dad that he could finish out the school year this time round was yet another one broken.

"Good man," acknowledged John as he started the familiar process of packing up his gear. If anyone could keep Sam under control it would Dean, and although he knew he was taking the easy way out here some time apart from his youngest might just prove the break they all needed to heal and get the status quo back again.

"Just tell Sam that I…" John paused, unable to find the right words for a moment. "Just tell your brother to keep himself well and not to over do it. I need you both fighting fit and I'll see you sometime next week in Montana. I'll give you the new address later."

Dean nodded, not quite able to look his dad in the eye. "Sure thing dad, I'll watch out for him. Don't worry about Sammy he'll do just fine."

John clamped a hand on his oldest son's shoulder. "You do that son. Keep him safe for me. Okay?"

**O0o0o0o0o0o0o**

Just two days since being discharged from hospital Sam Winchester was readying to leave California behind. It hadn't taken long to get their meagre belongings packed up and now all that was left were a few personal belongings to put away. It was a chore so familiar that he could do it automatically, which was a good thing because that was the mode he was working on ever since his brother had told him about the move.

Dean watched his brother folding his clothes into the large duffle bag awkwardly one handed and wanted to intervene but the set look on his brother's face kept him hovering in the doorway.

To be honest he had expected a more vocal response from his little brother at the news that they were leaving for Montana but all he had got was quick dark disbelieving look before an unnatural silence took over. It was the same unnerving silence that had greeted him in the hospital when he told Sam that dad had gone off to a job in Montana.

Sam was giving away no real emotion, certainly not the expected outburst of anger that usually came with each time they were forced to move on. It was as if he had learnt to internalise all the anger and frustration and Dean worried just where and when this might explode into something more dangerous.

The only time he had seen this stoic façade crumble a little was when he dropped him off at Penny's so that he could tell her in persona about the move.

He had waited in the car and when Sam returned walking up the short path he had a look of such a forlorn look guilt on his face, with a tear stained Penny standing forlornly by the doorway watching him walk away from her, that Dean felt physically gut punched.

Leaving Penny behind was going to be difficult for him but given time he knew he would recover, because First love could be such a bitch – but at least he was there to help soften the pain. He hoped.

The final 'goodbye' sign of California signalled the onward journey to a new home, a new hunt. Dean eyed his brother silently as the music blared out, AC-DC screaming out an anthem that threatened to seriously impair their hearing in later life.

Sam sat there, left arm in a cast, and cradled in a sling, looking for all the world like a kid who had been told for the first time that Santa wasn't real. His silence was damning and to Dean so unnatural he wanted to scream for him. Or best still hug him to him like he used to when Sam was younger and still allowed him to get rid of all the hurts that came his way. Now all he could do was wait and hope that at some point in their long trek to Montana the old Sam would resurface and let him back in again.

Still he couldn't resist to the urge and finally asked the question that had been burnign a hole in his tongue for the last few days. "So you and Penny. More than just good friends there, eh Sammy?"

"None of your business" responded Sam with a knowing smirk, his face blushing though at the question.

"Oh well bitch it will be my business if that guerrilla of dad of little Penny tracts you down to put your family jewels in vice if you managed to get her knocked up or something! I dont want him smacking my face into hamburger by mistake, that's all."

"So no chance of a little Samantha popping up 8 months down the line then." smirking before adding serously. "Which is a good thing. I've trained you well kiddo..."

Spluttering at the idea Sam punched his brother half heartedly on the arm. "You dude taught me nothing except how to duck and run..."

"Precisely..." remarked Dean proudly.

"Yeah I too would duck and run if I had to be seen with really ugly girls.. like your last date. Tricia, wasn't that her name? Man only a blind man would want to go anywhere need that. Even Penny thought she was a little bit past her best sell date...!!"

Dean scowled, Tricia had been an easy moment and sometimes a guy just had to seize them for what they were. Then a scowl went across his face realising that Sam and his little girlfriend must have seen them and the only time he had met up with Tricia was in that nice sleazy bar just of main street. He had parked the car by the entrance... and then it hit him just how his brother had spied on him. "You little fuck. Were you and Penny screwing around in my car?"

Sam snorted a confession and then laughed, genuinely laughed, and Dean felt the tension lifting between them. The drive to Montana wouldn't be that bad after all if they could still laugh.

**Epilogue.**

So it was a new town, a new school. Less than a four weeks after leaving the hospital Sam found himself doing the familiar round of introducing himself to new teachers, new classmates, having gone through this so many times now it was a too familiar routine.

This time round the hardest part of moving was having to leave Penny behind, but on seeing her tears something that he had been putting off firmed up his resolve. So less than half a day into a new school he knocked on the faded blue door and as he was called in he noted the diploma on the back wall with a soft wondering smile.

A degree from Berkley held high prominence in the Miss Greens office, and he hoped that he had found the perfect ally in this School counsellor. God knows he was going to need her support if he was going to pull this one off. If he thought hiding Penny from his dad and brother had been hard, this one would test all his abilities to get this one past them.

Mrs Green greeted him with a warm smile beckoning him to sit down with her hand. Casting a quick look at the folder on her desk she looked at him with bright eyes and he felt immediately more at ease. "So Samuel how can I help you here at Riverdale?"

"It's Sam ma'am,." responded Sam in almost a whisper, as if frightened to be overheard. "I sort of need your advice. I want to go to college and I need a full scholarship to do this."

Miss Green cast another eye over him before responding to his abrupt request. "Well I haven't had a proper chance to go over all your past school records" and she paused to raise an eyebrow in surprise. "And well there have been quite a few schools that you been through Sam. But what I've seen so far puts you in the top 5. Keep it up and I can see that with the right support that there will be good few colleges out their clamouring to let you in."

She was rewarded with widest dimpled smile she had ever seen, and the shy young man that had first appeared in her office was transformed into a more confident and expressive student.

"You really think so? I really need to do this." he paused fingering the worn envelope in his hand, adding softly. "I also have an open letter of support from a Professor Jennings from your old Alma Mater Miss Green."

"Professor Aaron Jennings?" asked Miss Green in surprise looking at the letter with open admiration. "Well I never. What a small world it is at times. I have to confess that he was my old professor of Ancient Studies. It was one the best classes I ever took." She scanned the letter further and gave him an affirming nod. "Sam, with this letter of support and your exemplary grades I can see you making it into most any college of your choice."

"Thanks Miss Green. There is something else though." he paused giving her a brief flash of dimples to ally her concerns as she frowned, used to the tales and worries of teenagers in all their angst driven lives. "I have to do this independently. Neither my dad or my brother can know about this."

Miss Green studied the tall fresh faced boy in front her with a more careful eye. He had a will and determination about him so advanced of his years that she could feel it radiating of him. "That's going to be hard to arrange Sam. You're not legally an adult yet and some of the paperwork that goes with this needs to be done by an adult."

He coughed slightly and shuffled in his seat. "Professor Jennings said he will cover that side of things. He's a close family friend and I trust him to do what's best for me. I have his contact numbers, you can call his office and he will confirm that's okay."

Miss Green nodded her complicity and Sam rewarded her again with another wide smile and she knew that half the girls in his year would die to see a smile like that flashed their way. God the boy was beautiful and she found herself a little bit jealous thinking of all those girls readying to sidle up to him and make him their own. Jesus growing older in this young world of pretty young things was such a drag.

Sam didn't see the small pout on her lips - all he could see was that for thefirst time in his short life he could see away of escape, a chance to be free and lead a normal life.

He was getting into a college, come hell or high water. Nothing would stop him now. Nothing.

Not even the mighty John Winchester.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

**The End…..**

_**So (big sigh of relief) I've finally been able to get to an ending of sort! Thanks ONE AND ALL for all the lovely reviews and feedback – they all really helped keep this very tardy writer focused and also helped write each new chapter as they appeared. Big mega thanks to you all. Roz. **_


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